Beneath the whispering trees, where shadows play,
Silent stones hold secrets of the past;
In the moon’s gentle glow, dreams sway,
A symphony of memories that forever last.

The leaves rustle tales of love and loss,
While the stones remain stoic, cold, and wise;
Under the stars, our paths often cross,
Bound by the earth, where truth lies.

In the stillness, the night speaks to the heart,
Through the rustling leaves and silent stones;
We are but echoes, playing our part,
In a story that time alone condones.

So let the moonlight guide our way,
Amidst the trees and stones so old;
For in their whispers, we find what we say,
A tale of dreams, in the night’s gentle hold.