The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where weeping willows their quiet vigil keep. A lonely boat drifts by for memory’s sake, While distant mountains slumber, deep on deep. A poet strolls along the water’s edge, His shadow dancing on the shimmering tide. He pauses by a weathered stone-swept ledge, Where ancient dreams and modern thoughts collide. The breeze carries faint notes from times long past, Of lovers’ whispers on this very shore. How many moments in this world can last? Like ...

The silver moon hangs o’er the tranquil lake, Where weeping willows their quiet vigil keep. A lonely boat drifts by for memory’s sake, While distant mountains slumber, deep on deep. A poet strolls along the water’s edge, His shadow dancing on the shimmering tide. He pauses by a weathered stone-swept ledge, Where ancient dreams and modern thoughts collide. The breeze carries faint notes from times long past, Of lovers’ whispers on this very shore. How many moments in this world can last? Like ...