In the whisper of the evening air,
Where the leaves cascade like dreams untold,
We wander down those autumn trails,
Where stories weave in colors bold.
Rustic tales of lovers past,
Underneath the bending boughs,
We breathe the chill, we hold the moments,
As time softly bows.
Hushed melodies drift through the trees,
Carried by a gentle breeze,
With every note, the heartbeats dance,
In perfect time, we find our chance.
Amidst the chorus of fading light,
We chase the shadows, kiss the night,
Heartfelt rhythms pulse like the brook,
In this quiet place, love’s an open book.
Rippling brooks sing lullabies,
'Neath the silver moon’s embrace,
With gentle chords that seem to sigh,
We lose ourselves in this sacred space.
Every leaf a whisper, every star a dream,
As we walk together, hearts agleam,
In this tapestry, we weave our fates,
By the river’s edge, where the stillness waits.
So let’s – under the twilight’s glow,
Follow the path where the wildflowers grow,
In the fading light, our spirits soar,
Through rustling pines and the open door.
With every step, as shadows rise,
We find a peace that never dies,
Our laughter echoes, soft as a bell,
In the stories we tell, forever to dwell.
When autumn’s song drifts to a close,
And the world dons its winter coat,
We’ll carry this warmth wherever we go,
In the heart’s quiet corner, love will float.
With every trail that we’ve walked and scaled,
We’ll frame our memories, paint the veil,
In every sunrise, with hope to ignite,
We’ll remember the journey by that fading light.
Folk
Autumn trails, rustic tales, hushed melodies, heartfelt rhythms, rippling brooks, gentle chords, fading light