A tale is told of an ancient tree, whose leaves would shimmer silver in the moonlight. It stood alone on a quiet hill, guarding a forgotten secret. One evening, a young traveler, weary from his long journey, rested beneath its branches. As the wind blew, the leaves began to whisper. They spoke of a love lost to time, of a promise made under a sky full of stars. The traveler listened, his heart heavy with a loneliness he could not name. The willow’s story was his own, yet not his own—a melody ...
