Echoes in the Mind’s Maze

I.
A whiff of cinnamon,
like whispers through autumn leaves,
drifts in from a past kitchen,
where laughter and warmth
curl like steam from a teacup.
The crackle of a wooden chair echoes,
but fades before it speaks your name.

II.
In the garden,
the sun spills over petals —
a scattered mosaic
of every bloom you’ve ever known,
but time is a trickster,
painting over colors with shades of gray,
leaving only the scent of rain.

III.
Footsteps on gravel,
crunching like secrets,
lead to nowhere familiar.
Faces blur in the mist,
eyes like reflections on a broken mirror,
pieces that never quite fit,
yet hold the weight of forgotten embraces.

IV.
The hum of a distant train,
a lullaby that rocked you
into dreams of endless fields,
now mingles with the pulse
of a city that never sleeps.
Concrete and grass intertwine,
rooted in stories untold.

V.
A melody from a radio,
soft as the first kiss,
plays in a room you’ve never seen,
but somehow belong to.
The notes dance around you,
each string tugging at a memory,
until all is quiet —
and you are left
with only the silence of knowing.