The Music of Forgotten Places

In the hush of twilight, where shadows entwine,
I wander through ruins, where memories align,
Abandoned and silent, these places stand still,
Yet whispering secrets, they beckon and thrill.

The crumbling walls echo with laughter and tears,
Each crack in the surface, a tale of the years,
I tread on the pathways where footsteps once danced,
In the heart of the silence, the past is enhanced.

A schoolhouse forgotten, its windows like eyes,
Staring out at the world, where the wildflowers rise,
I hear the faint chatter of children at play,
Their voices like music, now faded away.

The rusted swing sways in the soft evening breeze,
A ghost of a moment, a memory seized,
I close my eyes gently, and listen with care,
To the songs of the laughter that once filled the air.

In the heart of the forest, a cabin decays,
Its timbered embrace holds the warmth of old days,
I sense the soft glow of a fire long since spent,
And the stories exchanged, the love that was lent.

The echoes of lovers who carved their names deep,
In the bark of the trees, where the shadows now creep,
Their whispers still linger, like leaves in the wind,
In the music of silence, their journey begins.

A theater stands lonely, its stage draped in dust,
Where dreams once took flight, and the audience hushed,
I hear the applause, the thrill of the show,
In the silence that follows, the memories flow.

The echoes of actors, their voices now fade,
Yet the passion remains in the roles that they played,
I walk through the aisles, where the magic once soared,
In the heart of this stillness, their spirits adored.

A lighthouse abandoned, its beacon grown dim,
Once guiding the sailors through storms fierce and grim,
I hear the waves crashing, the cries of the sea,
In the music of time, their stories run free.

Each place that I visit, each corner I find,
Is a canvas of history, a tapestry lined,
With the threads of the lives that have come and have gone,
In the music of silence, their legacies drawn.

So I gather these echoes, these whispers of old,
The stories of places, the memories bold,
For in every forgotten, abandoned embrace,
Lies the heart of a journey, the soul of a place.

And as I depart, with the dusk drawing near,
I carry their music, their laughter, their fear,
For the past is a symphony, rich and profound,
In the music of forgotten places, I’m found.

- Khushi Kaul