A lonely willow tree stood by the silent pond, its branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. For years, it had witnessed the changing seasons and the passing of time. One autumn day, a young poet sat beneath it, feeling lost and weary. Suddenly, the wind carried a soft whisper: “Patience, child. Even the strongest oak was once a tiny acorn.” The poet looked up, startled, but saw no one. Yet the words lingered, bringing unexpected comfort. From that day on, the poet visited often, finding...
