A babbling brook flows through the mossy stones, Its gentle voice the forest deeply owns. It tells of journeys from the mountain high, Where eagles soar against the endless sky. It passed through valleys, kissed the morning dew, And saw the world in shades of green and blue. It met a deer who drank with quiet grace, And saw the stars reflect upon its face. The brook whispers a tale of constant change, Yet through its course, a purpose firm and strange. To reach the sea, to join the vast and w...