In the canopy of night, beyond the silver horizon,
a symphony of unsaid dreams gently trembles.
Each star, a note; each cloud, a forgotten verse.
"Can you hear the songs," whispered the moon,
"that dance upon the edges of your slumber?"
A lullaby of woven shadows sings beneath
the autumn leaves, shimmering with the frost of dawn.
Notes unplayed, dreams untold, sleep's sweet echo.