Echoes of the Past

In the quiet of the evening’s hush,

I hear a whisper, soft as a brush.

Stories told through the halls of time,

Echoes of a love once so divine.

Echoes of the past, calling me back home,

Voices in the night, guiding when I roam.

Memories like shadows, gentle and vast,

Holding on tight to echoes of the past.

Old records playing in a dusty room,

Melodies weaving through the silent gloom.

Every note a thread that ties me close,

To the ones I’ve loved, the ones I miss most.

Echoes of the past, calling me back home,

Voices in the night, guiding when I roam.

Memories like shadows, gentle and vast,

Holding on tight to echoes of the past.

Saxophone cries, piano sighs,

Telling stories without disguise.

A soulful journey through time’s embrace,

Finding comfort in a sacred place.

Echoes of the past, calling me back home,

Voices in the night, guiding when I roam.

Memories like shadows, gentle and vast,

Holding on tight to echoes of the past.

Echoes… echoes… echoes of the past…