Extinguished Haven

The city breathes softly through cracks of stone.
Each alley holds its breath lest the dreams should fade.
The spent streetlamps listen to the beating of homes.
In that silence, time loosens its pace.
The secret refuge opens where the air shifts tone.
Iron stairs, velvet corridors, steps without a sound.
Here shadows weave paths of sudden light.
The city breathes, to the rhythm of spent lanterns.