A gentle stream flows through the quiet wood,

Its murmuring voice a solace to the lonely heart.

Silver fish dart ‘neath the crystal tide,

While weeping willows on the bank impart

Their graceful shade to ferns and moss below.

The moon ascends, a pearl in twilight’s veil,

Casting soft light on waters that still glow

With daytime’s memory, a lingering tale.

Two distant stars converse across the sky—

Their silent dialogue older than the pine.

The brook sings on, time’s patient lullaby,

A timeless rhythm, both yours and mine.

Yet in this peace, a subtle sorrow dwells:

How many dreams have slipped through liquid spells?

A gentle stream flows through the quiet wood,

Its murmuring voice a solace to the lonely heart.

Silver fish dart ‘neath the crystal tide,

While weeping willows on the bank impart

Their graceful shade to ferns and moss below.

The moon ascends, a pearl in twilight’s veil,

Casting soft light on waters that still glow

With daytime’s memory, a lingering tale.

Two distant stars converse across the sky—

Their silent dialogue older than the pine.

The brook sings on, time’s patient lullaby,

A timeless rhythm, both yours and mine.

Yet in this peace, a subtle sorrow dwells:

How many dreams have slipped through liquid spells?