Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a babbling stream. Through misty mountains draped in green, He seeks the home he’s never seen. Pines whisper tales of ages past, Of friendships forged and shadows cast. A distant bell from temple rings, As night her silent magic brings. He finds a bridge of weathered stone, Where cherry blossoms drift alone. The path ahead now gently curves, With resolve that never swerves. For every journey has its end, Around the river’s final ...
