Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A lonely stream begins to dream.

It carries tales of ancient times,

Through rustling reeds and distant chimes.

A heron stands on one still leg,

Upon a mossy, weathered peg.

It watches stars begin to fall,

And hears the mountain’s gentle call.

The wind weaves through the pine trees high,

A lullaby beneath the sky.

It speaks of journeys yet untold,

In whispers brave and stories bold.

So listen close when night draws near,

For magic hums within the air.

The world holds wonders, vast and deep—

Just close your eyes, and dreams will keep.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A lonely stream begins to dream.

It carries tales of ancient times,

Through rustling reeds and distant chimes.

A heron stands on one still leg,

Upon a mossy, weathered peg.

It watches stars begin to fall,

And hears the mountain’s gentle call.

The wind weaves through the pine trees high,

A lullaby beneath the sky.

It speaks of journeys yet untold,

In whispers brave and stories bold.

So listen close when night draws near,

For magic hums within the air.

The world holds wonders, vast and deep—

Just close your eyes, and dreams will keep.