A lonely willow bends by the lake so deep, Its branches secrets ancient stories keep. A traveler rests beneath its gentle shade, And hears the rustling leaves, no longer afraid. They speak of lovers meeting in the moon’s soft glow, Of whispered promises from long ago. A warrior’s sigh, a poet’s unfinished rhyme, All carried on the breeze through endless time. The wind dies down, the whispers start to fade, Leaving but peace within the quiet glade. The journey continues, but the memory will st...
