A streamlet flows through emerald hills, Singing secrets to the daffodils. Its silver waters dance and gleam, Reflecting moonlight’s gentle dream. An old man sits on mossy stone, Listening to the water’s tone. He recalls youth’s vibrant chase, Now finds peace in this quiet place. The brook whispers of timeless days, Of winter frost and spring’s warm haze. It carves its path with patient grace— A liquid smile on nature’s face. All worldly worries fade away Where crystal currents laugh and play...
