In the hush of the evening’s embrace,
The moon ascends, a silver grace,
Her light a tender, gleaming thread,
That weaves through dreams, where shadows tread.

She whispers secrets to the night,
A guardian of the silent flight,
Her presence calm, a soothing balm,
For hearts that seek a soulful psalm.

Beneath her gaze, the world feels small,
Yet vast in wonder, one and all,
Her glow a beacon, pure and true,
Guiding lost souls with a gentle hue.

O moon, you are the night’s own heart,
A celestial work of timeless art,
In your light, we find our way,
Through darkest night to break of day.