We built a house of whispered dreams,
With windowed stars and wooden beams.
Each brick was laid with words we said,
Each room a space where love had bled.

The door was strong, the walls stood tall,
Yet time crept in, it cracked them all.
One morning light shone through the dust,
The echoes whispered, “love or rust?”

And so we stood with trembling hands,
Not lovers now, but drifting sands.
For houses fall, and so do we,
Yet love still hums in memory.