In a moonlit cabin where old stories lie,
A weary traveler sings a wistful sigh,
With shadows dancing on the weathered walls,
Drifting melodies ride the evening's calls.
Through the autumn mist, the whispers grow clear,
As hollow echoes of the past reappear,
The world grows golden, the fields glimmer wide,
Where memories linger, I’ll find my guide.
The leaves are turning, painted shades of gold,
While the night sky cradles the tales we’ve told,
In each gentle breeze, there’s a promise afloat,
Of laughter and love in a faraway boat.
With every heartbeat, I gather my dreams,
Like a river flowing through silver moonbeams,
From the depths of longing, my soul takes flight,
Chasing the shadows into the night.
A soft serenade calls me back home,
Through the golden harvest where wildflowers roam,
In the warmth of the evening, I finally see,
The beauty in the journey and the heart’s decree.
So let the weary traveler now lay his head,
In the comfort of twilight, where hope is bred,
For the whispers of autumn will forever endure,
In the golden embrace, our hearts are secure.
Folk
Golden harvest, Wistful ballad, Moonlit cabin, Autumn mist, Drifting melody, Hollow echoes, Weary traveler