The Whispering Brook
A babbling brook flows through the mossy glen, Its gentle voice a balm to weary men. It tells of ancient stones and sun-drenched days, Of rustling leaves in autumn’s golden haze. A traveler paused to drink its crystal tide, And in its depths, his own reflection spied. He saw the years like passing clouds above, And found a moment’s peace, and felt love. The water murmured secrets soft and deep, As onward to the sea it vowed to sweep. He rose renewed, with lighter heart and soul, Letting the c...
The Whispering Brook
A babbling brook flows through the mossy glen, Its gentle voice a balm to weary men. It tells of ancient stones and sun-drenched days, Of rustling leaves in autumn’s golden haze. A traveler paused to drink its crystal tide, And in its depths, his own reflection spied. He saw the years like passing clouds above, And found a moment’s peace, and felt love. The water murmured secrets soft and deep, As onward to the sea it vowed to sweep. He rose renewed, with lighter heart and soul, Letting the c...
