Beneath the silver moon, she walked,
With whispers trailing through the trees,
A girl who never spoke aloud,
But knew the language of the breeze.
She wore her secrets in the folds
Of midnight’s velvet, soft and deep,
And with each step, the shadows swirled,
A dance they promised never to keep.
She wandered far from city lights,
Where lanterns flickered, dimmed and died,
And in the forest, dark and wide,
She sought the place where dreams reside.
Her name was lost to memory,
A name she’d never dare recall,
For in her heart, she carried grief
Too heavy for a name to hold.
The stars above her whispered low,
Of things she’d done, of things she’d seen,
Of all the roads she walked alone,
And places where she’d never been.
Once, she’d loved a golden boy,
With eyes as bright as summer skies,
They danced beneath the dawn’s first light,
And kissed beneath the evening’s sighs.
But time, as cruel as time can be,
Tore them apart with bitter hands,
And left her standing at the door
Of a love that never had a chance.
Now, her steps were soft and slow,
Each one a silent plea for peace,
To find the place where broken things
Could finally, gently, find release.
The forest knew her heart’s desire,
It knew the pain she tried to hide,
And in its arms, it wrapped her tight,
And let the night become her guide.
For here, within the whispering trees,
She found her answer, soft and still—
The world would break, and time would flee,
But she could heal, if she stood still.
And so, beneath the endless sky,
She let the darkness take its claim,
No longer lost in past regrets,
She danced alone, and spoke her name.