Beneath the moon's soft, silver sheen,
A whispered tale, yet to be seen.
In echoes of the midnight breeze,
A poem blooms among the trees.

Stars above, like verses bright,
Compose the canvas of the night.
Each twinkling light, a stanza told,
In the cosmic rhyme, a tale unfolds.

Moonbeams dance on waters still,
Verse by verse, a tranquil thrill.
Reflections weave in liquid rhyme,...