The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Murmuring tales of ancient days in soft, watery tones. It speaks of willow trees that dip their leaves in grace, And clouds that drift like memories across time’s endless space. A traveler once paused to hear its silver song, And carried its quiet wisdom as he journeyed long. Though seasons change and mountains wear away, The brook’s gentle voice still flows—clear and wise today.
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Murmuring tales of ancient days in soft, watery tones. It speaks of willow trees that dip their leaves in grace, And clouds that drift like memories across time’s endless space. A traveler once paused to hear its silver song, And carried its quiet wisdom as he journeyed long. Though seasons change and mountains wear away, The brook’s gentle voice still flows—clear and wise today.
