In the stillness of the twilight hour,
Shadows dance with a solemn grace,
A whisper of the eternal night,
Calls us to its cold embrace.

Beneath the ancient willow tree,
Lies the remnants of forgotten dreams,
Echoes of a life once lived,
Now adrift in silent streams.

The moon’s pale light upon the grave,
A beacon for the wandering soul,
To find solace in the arms of death,
Where time no longer takes its toll.

And as we bid this world adieu,
To journey where the spirits roam,
We find in death a classic tale,
Of our return to the great unknown.