A silver ribbon winds through sleeping hills, Where moonlight spills its liquid, pearly light. The current hums an ancient, soothing tune That echoes in the stillness of the night. A lonely boat drifts on the gentle stream, Its lantern like a firefly aglow. The fisherman casts nets of whispered dreams Where starry reflections ripple down below. No words are spoken in this tranquil scene, Just water’s flow and heaven’s quiet grace. The river holds the moon’s unwavering beam And time itself see...
