The latch clicks in the quiet dawn,
echoes through empty rooms,
as if speaking to the silence.

A motor hums past the window,
its presence fleeting,
like whispers of distant promises.

I stand, an observer of the world,
not partaking, just seeing,
letting moments drift like clouds.

In this stillness, I find clarity,
that not all vows shape reality,
some are meant to fly away.