The River Of Hours Poem by ashok jadhav

I walked beside the flowing stream,
Its waters silver, swift, and cold;
They carried whispers of the past,
Of youth now gone, of tales retold.
The morning rose with gentle light,
The evening draped in amber hue;
Each day slipped by with quiet hands,
And left behind both old and new.
The trees I knew as small and green
Now stretched their limbs toward endless sky;
The stones beneath my wandering feet
Remembered every laugh and sigh.
The seasons danced in endless round,
From springtime bloom to winter's sleep;
And I, a traveler on the shore,
Felt time's soft hand both calm and deep.
Yet memory clings like stubborn moss,
Preserving moments, fleeting, bright;
And in their glow, I find my path,
Through darkened night and morning light.
So let the hours flow like streams,
And let the years take all they may;
For in the passage of their course,
We learn the truth of life's array.