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The moon climbs high above the silent wall A gentle light begins to fade and fall Beyond the shadows of the ancient pine The stories of the past begin to twine
Oh, drifting like a dream in the pale night air A silken touch, a secret left to share Through tears and laughter, let the river flow In the silver garden where the memories grow
Whispers lost in the evening breeze Underneath the willow trees Still they glow, soft and slow
