Oh, how the river murmurs at night, a symphony of reflections casting shadows upon whispers.
Each droplet, a story untold, weaving verses in silken threads along the banks of remembrance.
The leaves, golden witnesses to clandestine confessions, sway in harmony. They, too, share the burden of untold tales,
secrets written on the winds that caress the azure expanses of dawn.
Here, the water speaks with an ancient tongue, one that knows the heartbeats of stars, the silence of moons.
In the folds of time, a tree leans close, cradling the echoes of laughter and forgotten names.
Like a restless phantom, it etches ripples into the soul, curious about the footsteps that danced on its surface,
only to dissolve into the ether, leaving behind the faintest trail of celestial dust.