The silver moon hangs in the midnight sky, Casting gentle beams on the world below. A lone poet gazes with a thoughtful sigh, As whispers of the ancient breezes blow. He recalls tales of lovers long ago, Who danced in gardens where jasmine flowers grow. Their promises were sealed with a silken bow, Now buried deep where timeless rivers flow. Yet in this stillness, truths begin to show— That beauty lives in moments we outgrow. The moon sees all, yet never will it know The human hearts that ach...
