A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver song a balm to troubled mind. It carves its path where ancient willows weep, And secrets to the thirsty roots does keep. It saw the seasons change and empires fall, Yet hums its timeless tune, embracing all. A traveler paused to drink its crystal grace, And saw his own brief journey in that place. The water flowed, his reflection passed on by, A fleeting glimpse ‘neath an eternal sky. The brook flows on, with endless, gentle might, Wh...
