A sonnet lost in velvet seams,
Where midnight lulls forgotten dreams.
Its stanzas twist in silver thread,
Yet none recall the words once said.

The ink dissolves in shadow’s keep,
Yet syllables in silence creep.
A cadence locked in time’s embrace,
Unheard, yet never lost in space.

Who penned this ode in hidden tone?
What lips once spoke, yet left unknown?
The meter sways, the verses bend,
Yet even lost, they won’t descend.

For words unsaid still shape the air,
A ghostly song, a poet’s prayer.
And even night, in hush concealed,
Must hum the lines the dark revealed.