Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A gentle breeze whispers secrets to the tide. On distant shores, the willow branches sway, As stars above light up the night’s dark way. A lonely boat drifts slow with no one there, Its wooden oars resting without a care. The water holds reflections deep and clear, Of memories that time cannot impair. Some say a poet once stood on this bank, With thoughts too profound for words he frankly sank. He left his verses in the ripples’ rhyme, To be c...

Beneath the silver moon, the river flows so wide, A gentle breeze whispers secrets to the tide. On distant shores, the willow branches sway, As stars above light up the night’s dark way. A lonely boat drifts slow with no one there, Its wooden oars resting without a care. The water holds reflections deep and clear, Of memories that time cannot impair. Some say a poet once stood on this bank, With thoughts too profound for words he frankly sank. He left his verses in the ripples’ rhyme, To be c...