In the quiet hum of the creaky fan,
I found you beneath the dust of years,
an old photograph whispering tales,
of laughter shared and dreams spun,
your eyes still holding the skies,
while I speak to you in prayer.

Between breaths, I hear the echoes,
of a time when we dared to dream,
yet knowing now, I let the past rest,
for not all longings need a return,
in the silence, courage finds me,
as the fan sings its forgotten song.