The Mask

In days of old, beneath the sky so vast, I wore a mask, its echoes from the past. A visage crafted with care, of joy and grace, Yet hiding secrets in its painted face. In youthful games, on autumn's crisp embrace, The mask would dance with laughter, light, and chase. We'd twirl beneath the stars, our dreams so grand, With shadows cast by moonlight on the land. Oh, how those times have faded, like the mist, The mask now rests in memories we’ve kissed. Its colors, once so vivid, now are pale, In stories told, where wistful whispers sail. Yet every time I glimpse that old disguise, A spark of joy ignites, like distant skies. For in its guise, a piece of youth remains, A relic of the past, where love remains.