The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Under the silver moon, the willow branches sway, Dancing with the fireflies that light the night’s pathway. A traveler rests upon the bank, weary and alone, Hearing the water’s song in a soft, soothing moan. It speaks of mountains high and oceans deep and blue, Of timeless journeys under skies both old and new. The stars above blink slowly in the dark expanse, As the brook flows onward, ...
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Under the silver moon, the willow branches sway, Dancing with the fireflies that light the night’s pathway. A traveler rests upon the bank, weary and alone, Hearing the water’s song in a soft, soothing moan. It speaks of mountains high and oceans deep and blue, Of timeless journeys under skies both old and new. The stars above blink slowly in the dark expanse, As the brook flows onward, ...
