A tale unfolds where moonlight spills, of a willow tree on silent hills. Its leaves would dance in breezes low, with secrets only it could know. One night a traveler, lost and worn, beneath its branches, tired and torn. He heard a whisper, soft and deep, that promised secrets in his sleep. He dreamed of rivers, wide and blue, and paths where silver lilies grew. He woke at dawn, renewed and bold, to find a map of shining gold. The willow’s gift, a whispered grace, had lit the light upon his fa...
