Whispers of a time I’ve never known,
Photographs faded, a world overgrown.
The scent of a past that was never mine,
Haunts my heart like a ghostly sign.
I ache for echoes, for days unseen,
Dreaming of places I’ve never been.
Anemoia stirs where nostalgia can't tread,
Longing for life in stories long dead.
Beneath the surface, where memories sleep,
I trace the stories I’ll never keep.
A life in the spaces between time’s fold,
Chasing the warmth of a future untold.