A lonely willow stands by the silent lake, Its branches trace the moon’s reflection, Weaving tales of heartache for heaven’s sake. A traveler rests beneath its gentle shade, Hearing leaves murmur ancient poetry— Of love once vowed and promises unmade. The wind carries a lament, soft and deep, Of parted souls who met beneath this tree, Whose memories the roots forever keep. Dawn breaks in hues of gold and rose, Yet the willow keeps its whispered sorrow— A timeless verse that nature still compo...
