SHE

chasing the echo

She walks in echoes, not in steps,
A whisper caught in silk and smoke.
Eyes like dusk before the dark.
Not quite night, not fully woke.

She speaks in riddles, rarely loud,
A glance, a smirk, then silence long.

The world may write a thousand tales,
But none will guess where she belongs.

She haunts the hours between the clocks,
Where time forgets to tick or stay.
She leaves no mark, yet every heart
She brushes never look away.

She’s not a ghost, but something close.
A shadow clothed in flesh and flame.
You meet her once and then for years
You chase the echo of her name.