A gentle stream through mossy stones did wind, Beneath the willow’s graceful, drooping line. It murmured secrets to the listening reeds, Of sunlit days and stars that know no deeds. A traveler paused to hear its liquid song, And in its flow, found where his heart belonged. The water spoke of journeys yet untold, Of courage needed, and of hearts made bold. He drank its clarity, so cool and clear, And felt release from every lingering fear. The brook flowed on, through fields and forests deep, ...
