A tale unfolds by the silent riverbank, where an ancient willow tree has stood for centuries. Its branches sway gently in the breeze, murmuring secrets of forgotten travelers and lost loves. One moonlit night, a lonely poet rests beneath its leaves, seeking solace. The willow whispers a verse from ages past: ”Time flows like water, yet memories cling like dew.” Moved by these words, the poet pens a ballad that mends his heart—and the willow’s rustling grows softer, as if smiling. Some say nat...
