Beneath the sun’s warm, golden gaze,

Where children laugh and lovers praise,

Innocent hearts, with hands entwined,

Whisper vows in summer’s kind.

Families gather, their faith unshaken,

By the lake’s edge, where prayers awaken,

Calling upon the gods so near,

To bless the ones they hold most dear.

But clouds now churn on the horizon’s crest,

A storm approaches, dark and pressed,

Rolling waves and whispers blend,

Where sunlight falters, shadows bend.

In the tavern’s glow, hope lingers still,

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

With every cup, the warmth will fill,

Yet beneath the cheer, a secret hums,

As steady as the river runs.

For the lake does not lie still nor sleep,

Its secrets buried, dark and deep.

A murmur from the shifting tide,

Hints at truths the dawn would hide.

Voices echo, soft and low,

Like ripples where the waters flow.

Not all is as it seems tonight,

Where faith is strong, but shadows bite.

So gather close, and raise your glass,

For this, too, shall come to pass.

But know the storm is not the end,

And even hope has truths to bend.

Listen close, and heed the rhyme,

For what’s unknown may bide its time.

The lake reflects, but also hides,

Where love is pure, and fear abides.