A stream meanders through the mossy stones, Murmuring secrets in forgotten tones. It tells of rains that fell on distant hills, Of silent nights and morning daffodils. A traveler pauses by its gentle flow, To rest his limbs and let his worries go. He hears a tale of time’s relentless pace, Reflected in the water’s crystal face. The brook flows on, both constant and yet new, A timeless lesson, peaceful, pure, and true.
