In the moonlit meadow where shadows play,
Silent whispers dance on the edge of night and day.
A secret language, a melody unseen,
Where lovers' promises blend with the tenderest dream.

The zephyrs weave through the tall grass fair,
Carrying whispers of a love so rare.
The stars above in their silent throng,
Sing the ballad of hearts ever ever long.

The night is old, the moon indeed high,
Yet love's sweet whispers never die.
Through the rustling leaves and the hush of trees,
Their soft refrain a forever breeze.

Whispers of joy, whispers of sorrow,
Echoes of moments which we all borrow.
Tales of yesteryear, future untold,
All in the language of whispers, brave and bold.

Two souls entwined for a tender embrace,
Whispered secrets in a tranquil space.
Their hearts in rhythm, their breath is in tune,
A symphony played out by the silent moon.

The whispers speak of love's sweet...