A tale unfolds where ancient willows weep, Their branches tracing secrets dark and deep. A lonely traveler rests beneath the shade, Where light and shadow dance in green cascade. He hears a murmur on the passing breeze, A voice that rustles through the trembling leaves. It speaks of lovers from a distant age, Whose hearts were sealed in passion’s burning rage. Their promises were carved in bark now old, A story time and weather nearly stole. But roots remember what the world forgets— The joy,...