Railway of Time

A whisper of invisible rails
cuts the courtyards of time;
no visible train, only memory that passes.
Courtyards widen and close like doors,
the minutes fold in silence, elegant and slow,
and leco remains to measure breaths.
The lights tremble; steps remain mute,
but the invisible train brushes your inner courtyards,
leaving scent of rain and copper.
When leco falls silent, a subtle trace remains:
a journey that crosses everything without form,
an invitation to find time within your hands.