A babbling brook flows through the mossy stones,

Whispering tales of forgotten forest thrones.

Silver fish dart ‘neath the willow’s gentle shade,

Where ancient secrets in the ripples fade.

A traveler pauses, hearing the water’s song,

A melody where all doubts belong.

It sings of journeys under sun and moon,

And promises of blossoms coming soon.

The breeze carries notes of a distant chime,

Echoing the gentle, relentless flow of time.

In that moment, the world feels still and deep,

As the brook guards stories the mountains keep.