In the quiet hours when the world is still,
Shadows stretch and weave their silent song,
Beneath the moonâs soft, silvery spill,
They dance, where they truly belong.
A fleeting touch upon the dew-kissed ground,
Their forms elusive, shifting with the breeze,
In every corner, wonders can be found,
As shadows tell their tales among the trees.
The stars above bear witness to their play,
As shadows twirl beneath the cosmic light,
In their embrace, the night begins to sway,
Entwined in dreams, they vanish with the night.
Yet as dawn approaches with its golden hue,
Shadows retreat, their stories left unsaid,
Until the night returns with skies anew,
And shadows weave once more, where dreams have led.