In the quiet fold of night,
where whispers dress the moon in silver,
I find solace, not in the crowd's loud delight,
but in the hush where thoughts simmer.
Solitude, my silent friend,
in your arms, I mend.
E
In the quiet fold of night,
where whispers dress the moon in silver,
I find solace, not in the crowd's loud delight,
but in the hush where thoughts simmer.
Solitude, my silent friend,
in your arms, I mend.