A lonely willow stands by the lake, Its branches trembling with each breath they take. An old man sits beneath its shade so deep, While secrets of the past begin to seep. He recalls a spring when blossoms fell like snow, And promises made many years ago. The moon above now watches, pale and wise, As tears like silent dewdrops fill his eyes. The wind carries a tune from long-lost days, A melody lost in the willow’s gentle sway. Though time may fade what once was bright and true, The tree still...