The Whispering Brook
A stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales in soft and liquid tones. It speaks of mountains where the eagles fly, And passing clouds that paint the azure sky. A lonely traveler pauses by its side, To let the gentle, bubbling waters guide His weary thoughts to places calm and deep, Where promises the heart has longed to keep Are murmured back by currents cool and clear, Dispelling every shadow, every fear. He drinks the sound, a refreshing, mental draught, And finds the peace...
The Whispering Brook
A stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales in soft and liquid tones. It speaks of mountains where the eagles fly, And passing clouds that paint the azure sky. A lonely traveler pauses by its side, To let the gentle, bubbling waters guide His weary thoughts to places calm and deep, Where promises the heart has longed to keep Are murmured back by currents cool and clear, Dispelling every shadow, every fear. He drinks the sound, a refreshing, mental draught, And finds the peace...
