In the canticle of moonlit waves,
where whispers dance upon silvered waters,
the clockwork heart ticks slowly today,
tracing ripples of forgotten lullabies.
Passionate echoes ripple across the expanse,
each pulse an embrace of ethereal warmth,
the stars woven into the fabric of night,
a tender tapestry humming in synchrony.
The clock nods, its whispering hands,
caressing the moments like lost lovers,
lingering in the softness of time's embrace,
eternally caught, eternally free.