A babbling brook flows through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten times and ancient tones. Silver fish dart ‘neath the willow’s gentle shade, Where dreams of old and new are softly laid. A traveler pauses, hearing the water’s song, A melody that makes the heart belong. It speaks of journeys under moonlit skies, And promises that in the memory lies. The breeze carries the scent of blooming jasmine near, As twilight descends, calm and clear. In nature’s quiet, souls find their rest...
