Question

make this easy word with no symbols

I walked a road that flowed like a slow gray river,
and the wind whispered our names into the night.
It smelled of wet leaves and warm bread from the tavern,
and the lanterns hummed, thin yellow light.

She said she went to rest, a soft way to say she was gone,
and the moon leaned in like an old friend to a tired heart.
She told Icarus stories, wings and bright fools of sun and smoke,
and I said, how lucky we are, with a hole where love should start.

We called that loss a new quiet, a kind euphemism,
while the trees held a thousand years of secrets in their bone.
Quiet thunder rolled beneath our feet, a sweet sorrow of sound,
and grave matters lay by the road, the joke and weight of stone.

At times the night was a blanket, the map itself a promise,
the empty pocket full of paper doors we could not part.
The river sang like a bell, soft loud and bright and cold,
and this walk became a small story that stands for the whole heart.

I was lost and found at once, a strange clear dark paradox,
we moved by staying still, we kept and gave away what we bought.
The path is an old book, every footstep a simple page,
an allegory of leaving and coming home, where no light is for naught.

Answer 1

i walked a road that moved like a slow gray river
and the wind whispered our names into the night
it smelled of wet leaves and warm bread from the tavern
and the lanterns glowed thin yellow light

she said she was resting and that meant she had gone
and the moon leaned close like an old friend to a tired heart
she told stories about icarus and wings and fools of sun and smoke
and i said we are lucky though there is a hole where love should be

we called that loss a new quiet and used softer words
while the trees kept old secrets deep in their trunks
soft thunder rolled under our feet a sad sweet sound
and heavy stones lay by the road like a hard joke

sometimes the night was a blanket and the map was a promise
an empty pocket full of paper doors we could not open
the river sang like a bell soft loud bright and cold
this walk became a small story that stood for the whole heart

i was lost and found at once a strange clear dark puzzle
we moved while staying still we kept and gave away what we had bought
the path is an old book every footstep a simple page
a plain story of leaving and coming home where no light is wasted