Shadow Weave

[Verse 1]
The last lamp flickers, a slow, fading thread,
Rain taps a frantic rhythm overhead.
Polished wood floor gleams like dark lacquer deep,
A quiet hum, the city starts to sleep.

[Chorus]
My fingers trace the silence, ink on the page,
A shadow weaving, turning a new stage.
The city breathes a cold, damp, hushed refrain,
Just me and the book, and the patient rain.

[Verse 2]
A story unfolds, a patterned memory,
Of bustling street cries, vivid and free.
Not like this hushed room, where shadows unfold,
A quiet heartbreak, a tale left untold.
The scent of old paper, a saffron-tinged dream,
A world away from phở and sunbeam.

[Chorus]
My fingers trace the silence, ink on the page,
A shadow weaving, turning a new stage.
The city breathes a cold, damp, hushed refrain,
Just me and the book, and the patient rain.

[Bridge]
The binding’s patina, worn soft by the years,
Holds unspoken words, quieted fears.
A single thread holding, before it unwinds,
Leaving patterns on glass, for lost time.

[Outro]
Fingers still resting, on a phrase left unsaid,
The rain’s soft murmur, inside my head.