A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of ancient days in soft, watery tones. The willow trees bend low to hear the secrets it imparts, While sunlight dances on the waves like joyful, gleaming darts. A traveler paused to drink its cool, refreshing grace, And saw his own reflection in that quiet, timeless place. He wondered if the brook had known his father’s face before, Or would remember his own when he traveled on once more. The water murmured back to him in rhy...
