In the quiet whispers of the night,
Beneath the silver moon’s soft light,
The winds of time begin to speak,
Telling tales of the strong and weak.
Through ancient woods and valleys deep,
Over mountains high and oceans steep,
They carry whispers, old and new,
Of love thatâs lost and love that grew.
In every leaf and every tree,
A story lies, a mystery,
Of moments passed and dreams once bright,
Now fading gently out of sight.
And as they dance across the sky,
The whispering winds of time go by,
Reminding us of lifeâs sweet song,
To cherish moments, short or long.