A lonely willow stands by the lake, its branches tracing verses on the water’s surface. Each ripple tells a story of seasons passing—of spring blossoms carried by the wind, summer nights adorned with fireflies, and autumn leaves painting the earth in gold. Travelers often pause here, whispering secrets to its trunk, believing the tree guards memories within its rings. One evening, a child left a paper boat at its roots, bearing a handwritten wish. By dawn, the willow had woven the boat into a...
