Under the moon's glimmer, they shimmer.
Night crickets and tickets to nocturnal opera.
Winds whisper but loud chats linger.
Scent of old Earth rose, making the dent in hearts wane.
Stones skip across the lazy lake, while breezy laughters the sunk stones.
Minds dream of a night too unreal to exist.
However mythical it may be, they etch the magical night, yearning the wand of hope to grant the fictitious wish some day.