by Lily Partridge

In realms of thought, where shadows play,
A silent verse begins to sway.
With words like stars, a canvas bright,
I paint the edges of the night.
 
A whisper soft, a gentle breeze,
Rustling through the memory trees.
Each leaf a moment, etched in time,
A melody in subtle rhyme.
 
The moon above, a silver gleam,
Reflecting in a flowing stream.
Secrets held within its light,
Unveiling wonders to the sight.
 
And though the dawn will surely break,
This fragile beauty we partake.
A fleeting glimpse, a moment caught,
Within the tapestry of thought.