A lone willow bends by the silent river, Its branches tracing secrets on the water’s glass. An old fisherman sits with his forgotten dreams, Mending nets that hold more memories than fish. Moonlight stitches silver through the leaves, Weaving tales of dynasties long turned to dust. The wind carries a tune from a distant flute— A melody that even time has learned to trust. He smiles at the reflection of a younger self, Where ripples dance like ink on parchment spread. The night holds no regret...

A lone willow bends by the silent river, Its branches tracing secrets on the water’s glass. An old fisherman sits with his forgotten dreams, Mending nets that hold more memories than fish. Moonlight stitches silver through the leaves, Weaving tales of dynasties long turned to dust. The wind carries a tune from a distant flute— A melody that even time has learned to trust. He smiles at the reflection of a younger self, Where ripples dance like ink on parchment spread. The night holds no regret...