A gentle stream flows through the quiet wood,

Its murmurs telling tales both old and good.

It speaks of travelers who passed this way,

Beneath the sun or moon’s soft silver ray.

One day a child with weary feet sat near,

And washed her hands while shedding silent tear.

The water whispered, “Stay awhile and rest,

The world’s great burdens are not all your test.”

She stayed and listened as the evening fell,

And in that moment, broke sorrow’s spell.

The brook flowed on with timeless, gentle grace—

A mirror to the soul’s own hidden space.

Now stones and ferns guard secrets it has known,

Where peace and patience quietly have grown.

So when your heart feels heavy as a stone,

Remember: you need not walk alone.