Little stars twinkle in the whispers of the night sky. Do you hear their song?
The moon, round as a lullaby, dances with shadows on the old cobblestone.
Remember when we flew on paper boats, sailing through the puddles after rain?
The wind carries memories of sunshine and laughter, fading like morning mist.
Some things are better left in the dreams of daylight. Farewell, until the next
fleeting moment or in those hidden pages of forgotten tomes under the crescent moon.