Across the hush of silver seas,
The green-clad peaks arise with ease.
No roads, no names but just quiet grace.
A thousand dreams in one still place.

Mist drifts low like breath held tight,
Softly brushing stone and light.
Each island hums a secret tune,
Cradled by the shy-eyed moon.

Here, time forgets its steady tread,
And silence speaks where words have fled.
The heart may wander, far yet near,
And find its echo waiting here.