A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave,

Its murmuring song a balm to all who hear.

The ancient pines stand witness on the shore,

As silver moonshine paints the water clear.

Two childhood friends would meet there every dusk,

To share their dreams beneath the willow’s shade.

They vowed to chase the horizon’s distant glow,

Though time and tide might make their memories fade.

Years flowed like water—one became a bard,

Who sang of mountains clad in morning’s grace.

The other sailed beyond the known world’s end,

To find new stars in some uncharted space.

Yet when the autumn of their lives drew near,

They returned to where the whispering brook still flows.

No need for words—the water’s timeless voice

Had carried both their hearts where friendship grows.

Now silver-haired, they sit in calm content,

Knowing some bonds not even time can sway.

The brook sings on, a promise kept true,

That true paths always find their circling way.

A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave,

Its murmuring song a balm to all who hear.

The ancient pines stand witness on the shore,

As silver moonshine paints the water clear.

Two childhood friends would meet there every dusk,

To share their dreams beneath the willow’s shade.

They vowed to chase the horizon’s distant glow,

Though time and tide might make their memories fade.

Years flowed like water—one became a bard,

Who sang of mountains clad in morning’s grace.

The other sailed beyond the known world’s end,

To find new stars in some uncharted space.

Yet when the autumn of their lives drew near,

They returned to where the whispering brook still flows.

No need for words—the water’s timeless voice

Had carried both their hearts where friendship grows.

Now silver-haired, they sit in calm content,

Knowing some bonds not even time can sway.

The brook sings on, a promise kept true,

That true paths always find their circling way.