In the quiet of the night, the wind does sing,
A gentle whisper through the trees it brings,
Caressing leaves with a tender embrace,
It tells of journeys, of time and space.

The wind, a traveler from lands afar,
Over mountains high and deserts parched,
It carries tales of distant shores,
Of ancient forests and ocean floors.

Through valleys deep and cities grand,
It weaves its way, a guiding hand,
A force unseen, yet felt by all,
The wind, a voice that nature calls.

In its wake, it leaves a trace,
A fleeting kiss upon the face,
A reminder of the world untamed,
The wind, forever unchained.