In the quiet of a waning day,
Where shadows stretch and dreams decay,
A gentle breeze begins to sway,
Carrying whispers far away.

The leaves, they rustle, soft and low,
As tears from skies begin to flow,
In silent streams where sorrows grow,
A melancholy tale they sew.

Beneath the stars, a lonely sigh,
As night enfolds the boundless sky,
In twilight’s arms, the heart will lie,
Seeking solace, wondering why.

Yet in the dark, a glimmer’s spark,
A hope that dawn will soon embark,
On paths where dreams ignite and hark,
Amidst the melancholy’s mark.