A tale unfolds by the silent stream, where an ancient willow’s branches gleam. It’s said that on nights when the moon is new, its leaves share secrets whispered true. A young traveler once paused to rest, leaning against its gentle crest. He heard soft words drift on the breeze, carried through rustling leaves with ease. They spoke of love lost long ago, of seasons passing, swift and slow. The tree had witnessed joy and tears, through countless days and lingering years. As dawn approached, th...
