A lonely willow by the river bends, Its branches tracing tales of lost old friends. The moon reflects on waters dark and deep, While weary villages lie fast asleep. A traveler paused beneath its swaying shade, To rest his bones and feel his memories fade. He heard the leaves recite a ancient rhyme— A story woven out of space and time. It spoke of lovers meeting in the spring, Of broken vows and bells that ceased to ring. Of warriors brave who never did return, And lanterns that upon the grave...
