The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, humming an ancient tune under the dappled sunlight. Two children, with baskets in hand, skip along its bank, chasing silver minnows that dart between the ripples. An old willow tree leans low, its leaves brushing the water like fingertips tracing memories. The air carries the scent of wet earth and wild blossoms, while a distant bird’s song stitches the afternoon together. Here, time slows—each moment unfolds like a lotus on still water, sere...
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, humming an ancient tune under the dappled sunlight. Two children, with baskets in hand, skip along its bank, chasing silver minnows that dart between the ripples. An old willow tree leans low, its leaves brushing the water like fingertips tracing memories. The air carries the scent of wet earth and wild blossoms, while a distant bird’s song stitches the afternoon together. Here, time slows—each moment unfolds like a lotus on still water, sere...
