A lonely willow stands by the lake, Its branches trembling with each breath they take. A traveler rests beneath its shade, Recalling choices fortune made. He speaks of roads he left behind, Of broken dreams and ties unkind. The tree just sighs in rustling verse, “Both joy and sorrow universe.” Moonlight now paints the silent scene, Where regrets and hopes alike convene. The wind carries a soft decree: “Where you are is where you’re meant to be.”
