In the fields where dreams are spun,
There whispers the gentle breeze,
Carrying tales of days long gone,
Dancing softly through the trees.

Nans, the keeper of the past,
Holds the stories of the land,
In her eyes, the memories last,
Written gently in the sand.

The sun sets with a golden hue,
Painting skies with ancient light,
While Nans recalls the morning dew,
And the stars that grace the night.

In her heart, time weaves its song,
Each note a cherished melody,
For with Nans, we all belong,
In the dance of eternity.