A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, Whispering tales of forgotten times in soft, watery tones. The willow dips her branches low to hear the ancient song, While dragonflies on shimmering wings dance all day long. A traveler rests upon the bank, his weary soul refreshed, By the coolness of the water and the shadows’ gentle blessed. He dreams of distant mountains where the stream begins its flow, And carries in its liquid heart all secrets it doth know. The sun now sets in hues of...
