River Words By Mir Aini

The roads stretch far beyond my sight, through shadowed days and sleepless nights.

Each step I take feels worn, yet new, a path I walk though none pursue.

The echoes of the past persist, in every mist, in every twist.

The air is thick with firefly light,

Soft whispers hum through summer night.

The world exhales a gentle heat, where shadows dance and hearts may meet.

The grass is damp, the river glows, reflecting dreams the moon bestows.

I found your voice in evening rain, a whisper soft that called my name. The years dissolved, the hours fled, and old emotions filled my head. The scent of pages, worn and dear,

Brought back the laughter, brought back the fear.

I walked a path both dark and wide, where shadows lingered at my side. Each step I took, a fragile thread, tied to the love I should have fled.

The stones were sharp, the wind was cold, their whispered secrets harsh and old.

I walk the halls of yesterday, where echoes linger, slow and grey.

Each corner hums a quiet song, of all I lost and held too long.

The photographs stare back at me, their smiles are a mask of memory. I reach for hands that slipped away, for words I never got to say.

I walked through days I thought were mine, each step a shadow, soft, divine.

The mirror held a face I knew,

Yet something deeper stirred and grew. The seasons turned, the winds grew cold, and I became both young and old.

The hands spin backwards through my mind, erasing moments left behind.

Each tick a whisper, soft, unkind, of days I cannot call or find.

The hours fold upon themselves, their echoes trapped in dusty shelves. I chase the past through empty rooms, a dance with shadows, silent tombs.

The ink once black has turned to gray, the letters curl, then drift away.

Each word I wrote, a trembling trace, now vanishes in time’s embrace.

I held the pages close and dear, they spoke of laughter, love, and fear. Their corners frayed, their edges thin, like fragile bones that once had skin. The stories told, the nights we spent,

It lives beneath my ribs, a spark, a quiet shadow in the dark.

I’ve felt its weight before I spoke, its presence is steady, never broken. It hums in rooms i cannot leave,

In corners where my thoughts deceive. A whisper soft, yet edged with pain,

A gentle echo I cannot feign.

I opened pages filled with rain, each line a mark of love and pain.

The ink ran deep, the words would stay, a map of nights that turned to day.

I walked through halls both bright and dim, where laughter echoed, edges grim.

Each chapter held a fleeting hand,