A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Reflecting clouds that drift in skies of blue. It sings a song that soothes the troubled mind, With ancient tales both timeless and true. Two children once upon its banks did play, Who chased the butterflies in sunlit glee. They built small boats of leaves to sail away, As dragonflies danced o’er the rushes free. But seasons turned, as seasons always will; The frost did come, and then the spring’s warm rain. The brook flows on, beyond the distan...
