A tale unfolds where moonlight spills, of a willow tree on silent hills. Its branches sway with secrets deep, guarding promises the night will keep. A traveler came with weary heart, lost and torn, set far apart. The willow whispered on the breeze, a rustling song to put mind at ease. “Beneath my shade, rest your sorrow, and find new hope for each tomorrow.” Leaves like emeralds, soft and grand, brushed his cheek with a gentle hand. He slept and dreamed of rivers clear, washing away all doubt...
