The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where willow branches dance and softly sway. A lonely boat drifts by for heaven’s sake, As stars above begin to fade away. An old man sits upon the mossy stone, His memories like ripples gently spread. He thinks of youth and days long since flown, Of words he left unspoken, paths untread. The water mirrors constellations bright, A fleeting world of dreams upon its face. The moon remains through darkness and through light, Witness to time’s unendin...
