Times are many,

that the cool air drifts,

and the stars alight in the sky.

Pause and listen to the quiet of the night.

Memories are made in a moment.

Stillness triggers a spark,

that lights a thought,

which drifts and spins,

weaves and turns,

changing what once was,

to what is etched anew.

Replaced and reshelved,

Forgotten it sits,

until another moment,

weaves it anew.