A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song a balm to all who hear. The ancient pines stand watch on either side, As sunlight filters through with golden cheer. A traveler pauses by the water’s edge, To quench his thirst and rest his weary soul. The brook shares tales of seasons long since passed, Of winter’s frost and summer’s warm control. It speaks of lovers’ vows exchanged near by, Of children’s laughter ringing through the years. The water flows, a timeless, const...
