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A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones,
Whispering secrets to the ancient pines.
Silver fish dart ‘neath the water’s glass,
While sunlight dances in liquid gold.
On the bank, a child sits still and listens,
Hearing tales of mountains yet unseen.
The breeze carries echoes of far-off bells,
As twilight paints the sky in hues of dreams.
Not a single word is spoken aloud,
Yet the heart understands the water’s song—
A timeless verse of flow and change,
Where all sorrows melt and hopes belong.
(Word count: 98)
A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones,
Whispering secrets to the ancient pines.
Silver fish dart ‘neath the water’s glass,
While sunlight dances in liquid gold.
On the bank, a child sits still and listens,
Hearing tales of mountains yet unseen.
The breeze carries echoes of far-off bells,
As twilight paints the sky in hues of dreams.
Not a single word is spoken aloud,
Yet the heart understands the water’s song—
A timeless verse of flow and change,
Where all sorrows melt and hopes belong.
(Word count: 98)
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