A tale unfolds where moonlight spills, of an ancient tree on silent hills. Its leaves once danced with joy and grace, now stilled by time in this lonely place. A traveler came with weary feet, and sat to rest in summer’s heat. He heard a voice upon the breeze, rustling softly through the trees. The willow spoke of days long past, of love that forever would last. Of laughter echoed in its shade, and promises that never fade. Though seasons change and years may fly, some memories never die. The...
