A gentle stream flows through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Beneath the willow’s shade, where fireflies gleam, It carries secrets in its silver gleam. A traveler paused to drink its crystal clear, And heard a melody that banished fear— The water sang of mountains tall and deep, Where stars in quiet vigilance still keep. Though seasons change and years may swiftly pass, The brook’s soft song endures in grass and glass. It murmurs on to oceans wide an...
