Traces in the Air

The trees still stand where we once played, Their roots entwined with plans we made. The paths we carved now overgrown, Yet in the breeze, your voice is known. A faded scent, a fleeting sound, The ghost of laughter all around. Each stone, each turn, a trace remains, Of all we lost, of all that wanes. The traces linger through the air, A tender ache we always bear. The past still hums, a soft refrain, A song of joy wrapped tight in pain. The moonlight paints the fields in gray, A silver mask for yesterday. The stars align, though none can see, The weight they hold for you and me. The wind carries what we left behind, A fragile pull, a tethered bind. It holds the pieces we can’t reclaim, But whispers softly, all the same. The traces linger through the air, A tender ache we always bear. The past still hums, a soft refrain, A song of joy wrapped tight in pain. The morning breaks, the sky turns blue, Yet shadows bloom where dreams once grew. Each fleeting ray ignites the thought, Of all we had and all we sought. The traces fade, but not to none, They fuse with all that we’ve become. The ache transforms, the weight feels light, A quiet strength born of the night. The traces linger through the air, A tender ache we always bear. The past still hums, a soft refrain, A song of joy wrapped tight in pain.