In the quiet hour when the day is done,
I climb the hill beneath the setting sun,
With every step, the world begins to fade,
I hear the whispers that the twilight made.
The wind caresses softly through the trees,
Carrying secrets like a gentle breeze,
In the shadows, where our memories dwell,
My wandering soul, it knows them well.
There’s a fire that glimmers in the night,
A familiar warmth, a flickering light,
Guiding me through the echoes of the past,
Finding solace in the moments that last.
When the stars begin their silver dance,
All my fears, they fade with every chance,
Lost in the beauty that this night reveals,
I feel the promise that the twilight heals.
So let the whispers reach out to my heart,
Binding the stories that forever impart,
For in this stillness, I am never alone,
The hill of twilight has become my home.
With every breath, I gather hope anew,
In the hush of evening, my spirit flew,
And as the night wraps around my soul,
I find my peace, I am finally whole.
So here I stand, at the edge of night,
In the arms of darkness, I feel the light,
Each whisper carries my dreams on the breeze,
And in this twilight, my heart is at ease.
Folk
Hill, twilight, whisper, soul, light