Short Poem

Short Poem

In the quiet of the twilight, where the stars begin to gleam,

Lies a world beyond the daylight, in the softness of a dream.

Where the rivers sing in whispers, and the winds are soft as lace,

Every creature moves in rhythm, in this tranquil, hallowed place.

Mountains rise like ancient monarchs, crowned with snow and robed in pine,

Guarding secrets, old as time itself, within their halls enshrined.

Forests echo with the stories, of the ages they have seen,

Whispered through the leaves and branches, in a timeless, verdant sheen.

Here, the sky is painted daily with the hues of setting suns,

A canvas vast, an artist's fancy, where the heart and heaven runs.

And the moon, a silent poet, casts her verses to the sea,

In the masterpiece of nightfall, where the world is meant to be.

So take a moment, close your eyes, and drift into this scene,

For life is art, and art is life, in the spaces in between.

And every breath's a brushstroke, on the canvas of our years,

In the masterpiece we're living, through the joy, the love, the tears.