In the quiet of a moonlit room,
Soft whispers glide from ivory keys,
A melody weaving through the gloom,
Like a gentle breeze through ancient trees.

Each note a story, each chord a sigh,
Echoes of dreams in the silent night,
The piano sings as shadows fly,
Painting the dark with silver light.

Fingers dance on the silent wood,
Telling tales of love and sorrow,
In every sound, a world understood,
Promising hope for a new tomorrow.

As the final notes softly fade away,
The room holds its breath in sweet repose,
A lingering warmth in the night’s ballet,
Where music and magic eternally compose.