A gentle stream flows through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten dreams and ancient tones. Beneath the willow’s shade, where fireflies gleam, It carries secrets in its silver gleam. Through valleys deep and forests old it winds, Leaving behind the worries of busy minds. Each ripple holds a story, soft and clear— A timeless song for those who pause to hear. The moon above casts shadows on its face, A silent witness to time’s endless race. Yet still it flows, with patience and with...
