A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Silver fish dart ‘neath the willow’s trailing veil, While the breeze composes songs along the leafy trail. An old man sits upon a weathered cedar log, Watching twilight dance and weave through evening’s fog. He recalls his youth—a vibrant, bold design— Now finds peace in stillness, sipping twilight wine. The moon ascends, a pearl in purple skies, Painting the water with her soft, luminou...
