In the quiet whispers of the night,
Thoughts meander like a gentle stream,
Weaving dreams with starlit light,
In the realm where hope and memory gleam.

Each thought a fleeting, fragile thread,
Tapestries of life, both new and old,
In silent reverie, softly spread,
Stories of the heart, quietly told.

Beneath the moon’s serene gaze,
Questions drift like leaves in autumn’s dance,
Echoes of the past in a gentle haze,
In the stillness, lost in a timeless trance.

As dawn awakens the sleeping earth,
Thoughts retreat, like shadows at daybreak,
Yet in their wake, a quiet mirth,
In the heart, a gentle peace they make.