A Gentle Ache

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Dangers of my mind. Whispers of forgotten kind .

The gray drifts in, soft as dawn’s first sigh,

A quiet ache that lingers on the air.

Empty streets stretch beneath a fading sky,

Whispers of loss hang heavy everywhere.

A song forgotten, notes of what was near,

Now lost in fog that blurs the mind’s clear eye.

The longing rests, a shadow held in fear,

For things unspoken, passed without goodbye.

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