Beneath the moonlit sky, the lake lies still,
A mirror to the stars, reflecting dreams;
Its waters whisper secrets to the night,
In gentle ripples, stories softly stream.

The nightingale sings sweetly from the shore,
Its melody a dance upon the breeze;
While shadows play in patterns on the lake,
As if to tease the silence with their ease.

The willow trees, they weep with silver tears,
Their branches dipping low to kiss the waves;
In the cradle of the night, the lake is calm,
A haven where the weary world behaves.

The dawn will break and paint the skies anew,
Yet in this moment, all is pure and right;
The lake, a timeless keeper of the night,
Holds fast to dreams that linger in its light.