Time's Soft Echo

The clock ticks on, a steady beat,
Each second falls, a soft retreat.
The moments fade, like whispered sighs,
They blur and blend before our eyes.

But in the heart, a flicker dwells,
A trace of days where laughter swells.
A sunlit hour, a stolen kiss,
These fragments form a fleeting bliss.

We reach to grasp, but they transcend,
Like wisps of smoke the wind may bend.
And so we learn a truth so strange,
The past survives in subtle change.

Within the mind, a world remade,
Where bygone scenes are softly played.
A 'flembraunce'* shimmers, soft and bright,
An afterglow in fading light.

Though time may steal the present form,
Within our souls, the past stays warm.
An echo in the heart's deep space,
The fleeting touch of time we chase.