In the Soft Hours

Silence holds its quiet powers, soft as breath on untouched glass. Even in stillness, there is a secret noise- a hum that heart remembers. In the deep midnight hours, your memory returns to me, a slow and tender echo moving through the dark. Sometimes, within the hush, the falling dew becomes a song- tiny notes of silver scattered across the earth. Every silence tells a story: some shaped with sorrow, some trembling with joy, all carried gently in the spaces between sound.