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 fleeting sound, While dragonflies in iridescent hues dance all around. A traveler pauses on the bridge, his weary soul at rest, Hearing the water’s quiet song, feeling his heart blessed. The brook knows neither past nor fear, it simply flows along, Teaching all who listen well its timeless, liquid song. Though seasons change and years may pas...
