A lonely willow by the river bends,

Its branches tracing stories without ends.

A traveler paused beneath its shade one day,

To let the weary miles just slip away.

He heard a murmur in the rustling leaves,

A tale of joy and sorrow it bereaves.

Of lovers’ promises in moonlight made,

And dreams that like the morning mist did fade.

The wind blew soft, the story drifted by,

A silent tear welled in the traveler’s eye.

For in the willow’s whisper, he could see

His own lost hopes reflected silently.

He rose and left, but carried in his heart

The ancient tale the willow did impart.

That even solitude can hold a friend,

And every seeming stillness has an end.

A lonely willow by the river bends,

Its branches tracing stories without ends.

A traveler paused beneath its shade one day,

To let the weary miles just slip away.

He heard a murmur in the rustling leaves,

A tale of joy and sorrow it bereaves.

Of lovers’ promises in moonlight made,

And dreams that like the morning mist did fade.

The wind blew soft, the story drifted by,

A silent tear welled in the traveler’s eye.

For in the willow’s whisper, he could see

His own lost hopes reflected silently.

He rose and left, but carried in his heart

The ancient tale the willow did impart.

That even solitude can hold a friend,

And every seeming stillness has an end.