Breath Among Strings

Silence breathes through forgotten strings,
an abandoned guitar in a desolate station,
dust dances upon the frets, silent and slight.
The strings hold the memory of faded rails,
in every knot beats a pulse of lost travelers,
and the wind tunes them to a slow note.
Breath is an ancient tide etched into the wood,
yellow light sketches shadows on the stretched strings,
the waiting hall falls quiet, yet it hears.
When the train fails to come, the echo becomes a presence,
a timeless music rises from the cold benches,
and the place remains, keeper of those breaths.