In the shadow of a crumbling hearth,
Where memories linger like smoke in the air,
A wandering tune drifts through the open door,
Carried by whispers of the night’s gentle care.
The stars are like lanterns in an oakwood sky,
Painting the silence with tales of the past,
As I wander this path, where the lost footsteps lie,
In search of a love that I thought would last.
With a soft murmur, the wind starts to sing,
Of days spent in laughter and nights full of dreams,
But time is a thief that took everything,
Leaving me stranded at the edge of the streams.
So I follow the echoes of that distant path,
Through valleys and hills where the shadows convene,
Searching for solace in the aftermath,
Of a world that once shimmered, now faded and lean.
In the quiet of twilight, I stop and I breathe,
The stories of old wrap around me like chains,
Yet hope finds a way in the dark to believe,
That love in its essence forever remains.
So I carry the weight of a heart that longs free,
As I tread through the night, with stars as my guide,
For every crumbling hearth has a tale yet to be,
And every lost wanderer finds home deep inside.
As the dawn starts to break and the shadows recede,
I gather the pieces from this journey’s end,
For even a hearth worn can grow from its seed,
And love’s wandering tune will forever transcend.
Folk
Crumbling hearth, wandering tune, oakwood sky, soft murmur, distant path