A silver moon floats on the river deep,

While quiet waves in gentle rhythm sleep.

A lonely boat drifts where the willows weep,

As memories stir in dreams the night will keep.

An old man sits with lantern softly glowing,

Recalling days when spring winds were blowing.

He hums a tune only the stars are knowing,

While time flows on without a hint of slowing.

The night breeze whispers through the reeds and grasses,

A symphony that quietly passes.

The moon observes as history masses—

Moments like ink on parchment time amasses.

Yet in this scene so peacefully still,

The heart finds peace against its will.

The flowing water, moon, and hill

With ancient wisdom all things fill.

A silver moon floats on the river deep,

While quiet waves in gentle rhythm sleep.

A lonely boat drifts where the willows weep,

As memories stir in dreams the night will keep.

An old man sits with lantern softly glowing,

Recalling days when spring winds were blowing.

He hums a tune only the stars are knowing,

While time flows on without a hint of slowing.

The night breeze whispers through the reeds and grasses,

A symphony that quietly passes.

The moon observes as history masses—

Moments like ink on parchment time amasses.

Yet in this scene so peacefully still,

The heart finds peace against its will.

The flowing water, moon, and hill

With ancient wisdom all things fill.