The Breath of What-Ifs

There are paths untrodden,
silent stories, never told,
and dreams suspended, almost mute,
promises barely whispered.
A kiss ungiven, a flight, an embrace,
another life, a different morning,
choices that leave a faint trailing trace,
a fragile echo in my way.
A vague shadow, nearly a scent,
of parallel lives, barely grazed by,
a gentle weight, a quiet strain,
the white pages, never turned.