A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of ancient days in soft, watery tones. The willow dips her branches low to catch the murmured rhyme, While sunbeams dance on ripples, keeping perfect time. A traveler pauses on the bridge, his weary soul to rest, And finds within the water’s song a long-forgotten quest. The brook speaks not of grandeur, but of simple, quiet things— The joy a sudden rainbow brings, the peace the morning brings. It sings of minnows darting in t...
