A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe. It tells of mountains where the eagles nest, Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest. A fallen petal on its current rides, A tiny boat on ever-shifting tides. It carries secrets from the ancient wood, A liquid thread where timeless meanings brood. The sunbeams dance upon its sparkling face, And weave a light in that enchanted place. It murmurs on, a soft and constant friend, Whose quiet journey has no...

A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe. It tells of mountains where the eagles nest, Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest. A fallen petal on its current rides, A tiny boat on ever-shifting tides. It carries secrets from the ancient wood, A liquid thread where timeless meanings brood. The sunbeams dance upon its sparkling face, And weave a light in that enchanted place. It murmurs on, a soft and constant friend, Whose quiet journey has no...