A lonely willow stands by the lake, Its branches trembling with each breath they take. A traveler rests beneath its shade, Hearing tales the rustling leaves conveyed. Of moonlit nights and autumn’s glow, Of distant lands where rivers flow. The wind composes verses old, In nature’s poetry, stories unfold. A bird alights with feathers bright, Singing songs of fading light. The willow sighs, the traveler dreams, Lost in this world of silent streams. Time flows on, yet memories stay, Beneath the ...
