Beneath the gentle glow of the moon,
Sons wander through the fields of dreams,
Whispering tales to the night,
As stars weave their silent seams.
In the quiet rustle of leaves,
Their laughter dances on the breeze,
Painting memories on the canvas of time,
With colors only the heart sees.
They carry the hopes of yesterdays,
Wrapped in the tender embrace of dawn,
Guiding the shadows into light,
Until the night is gently reborn.
Sons of the silent starlit nights,
Guardians of dreams yet untold,
In their eyes, the universe unfolds,
A tapestry of stories bold.