In the echoing grove where silence sings,
Rest the tired tales of ancient kings.
They whisper lullabies beneath the calm waves,
Stories of shadows that the moonbride saves.
The river slides past like a silver knife,
Cutting through curtains of a dreamlike life.
Each ripple a note in the song of night,
An ode to stars and their forgotten light.
Listen, oh traveler, to the echoes dim—
The lullabies woven, the secrets within.
An unseen hand writes on the waters’ face,
A tapestry woven of timeless grace.