In a quiet town, beneath a moonlit veil,
A whisper wandered, soft as a gentle tale.
Through the trees where shadows danced and played,
A lone traveler on a path, unafraid.
He sought a secret garden, known by few,
Where the stars in bloom held a mystical hue.
With each step, the night air shimmered bright,
Guiding him forward through the tranquil night.
In the heart of the garden, a fountain stood,
Its waters like silver, pure and good.
Beneath its spray, a wish was made with care,
A silent promise to the night air.
As dawn approached with its golden grace,
The garden faded, a hidden place.
Yet the traveler carried a gentle light,
A memory of magic, softly bright.
©twisha ray
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