A Solitary Reverie in Ruined Halls

The lorn city, once resplendent with art,
Now bears the scars of time’s unyielding heart;
Its arches crumble where bright hopes did dwell,
And memories of grace now bid farewell.

Amidst the dust, a secret flame once stirred,
A love unsung in whispers seldom heard;
Its veiled light glimmered in the traveler’s gaze,
A tender spark concealed in ancient haze.

“Oh dearest phantom,” sighed his wistful mind,
“In ruins, every breath leaves hope confined;”
He spoke to shadows, yearning for a sign,
That love, though hidden, might yet intertwine.

The silent streets recalled a past divine,
When tender vows through hallowed corridors did shine;
Yet fate, in cruel design, decreed a rift,
And bound the heart in solitude’s cold shift.

Each crumbling wall recalled a secret grace,
A fleeting glance, a soft and wistful face;
But time, a ruthless judge, let passion fade,
Lost ‘neath the rubble where despair was made.

In midnight’s gloom, the traveler roved the lanes,
Where echoes mourned of joy turned into pains;
A relic of a love that ne’er could bloom,
Its petals wilted in impending gloom.

He wandered through the arches of regret,
In every breath, a dirge of love beset;
The gentle murmur of the ruined hall
Recalled a promise doomed to rise then fall.

“Sweet specter, art thou but a dream now gone?
A fleeting wisp of light at early dawn?”
He pleaded in a language bittersweet,
As solitude and sorrow did entreat.

Upon the shattered steps, he paused to weep,
For love once buried deep, no longer sleeps;
Its tender notes, once sung in twilight’s guise,
Are but soft echoes of forlorn goodbyes.

The phantom love—a secret never told—
Lay hidden like a gem in ruins old;
Its luster dimmed by fate’s unyielding hand,
And vanished like the mist above the land.

The city, draped in melancholy shrouds,
Embraced the loner’s heart with mournful clouds;
As every stone recalled a love unmade,
So too did silence in his soul cascade.

He pledged his troth to that unspoken dream,
Though destiny denied its shining gleam;
With every step in solitude’s domain,
He felt the tender pang of love’s refrain.

In whispered winds, the relics softly speak,
Of passion erstwhile, now so faint and meek;
Yet even ‘midst the ruins’ solemn cry,
A hope elusive lingers ‘neath the sky.

A final plea in tear-streaked verses spent,
The traveler bemoaned the love unlent;
The silent remnants of a blossoms’ lore,
Would ne’er revive what fate had closed the door.

So onward through the desolation’s art,
He wends his way, a solitary heart;
In every fractured stone and tearful sigh,
The specter of lost love refuses to die.

At last, the weary wanderer did cease,
With soul resigned to grief and bitter peace;
Beneath the ruins, ‘mid dust and endless night,
He merged with solitude, bereft of light.

Thus, in the annals of the shattered past,
The tale remains, embossed and meant to last;
A love concealed, a heart that could not mend,
And solitude—the solitary, tragic end.