In the echoes of a forgotten stair, She rises from the waters of memory, Veiled in the mist of time’s tender embrace, Her face a ghostly silhouette of ancient grace. The crumbling walls whisper secrets of the past, While she stands, a figure of silent resolve, Eyes closed, as if to see beyond the veil, To places where the living dare not tread. Her form is woven from the threads of dreams, An ethereal presence in this hollow space, Where light and shadow dance in muted tones, And the water reflects her quiet sorrow. Each step that winds up the worn stone, Leads to realms where the past still breathes, Yet she remains, rooted in the pool of yesterday, A guardian of stories left untold. The air is heavy with the weight of yesteryears, Yet she floats, a spirit untouched by time, In a sanctuary where only the lost may dwell, Held by the gentle currents of the forgotten.