Under the dusk and moon so bright,
I sat with a tree in the quiet night.
A story I told, my heart poured out,
The tree listened still, its tears fell about.

The wind grew cold, I shivered alone,
My cap offered little; the chill had grown.
Then she appeared with shawls in hand,
Her warmth like a fire, a love so grand.

She gave me one, but I let it fall,
I held her close, that was all.
In her arms, the cold withdrew,
Under one shawl, our love felt true.

A branch then broke, and I awoke,
The tree still cried, my dream spoke.
It was a moment, brief yet serene,
A memory of love in a moonlit dream.