The moon hangs low, a guardian in the night,
With beams that pierce the dark, a gentle light.
She whispers secrets to the stars above,
In silent, tender tones of ancient love.

Her silver glow reflects on quiet seas,
Stirring dreams with every passing breeze.
A lullaby for those who wander late,
Entwining fates with threads of lunar fate.

Shadows dance beneath her watchful gaze,
In her soft embrace, the world stays.
A tranquil force, serene and ever bright,
Guiding souls through the silent night.

Oh, moon of mine, your whispers I revere,
In your soft glow, all worries disappear.
You paint the sky with hues of silver grey,
And in your light, we find our way.