The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, While telling tales of timeless love. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s heart. The wind carries a melody— Of mountains old and endless seas. Each needle holds a drop of dew, Reflecting skies of boundless blue. Though seasons change and years may pass, This tree remains—a steadfast mass. So lean in close when night grows deep, For wisdom lies in roots ...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, While telling tales of timeless love. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s heart. The wind carries a melody— Of mountains old and endless seas. Each needle holds a drop of dew, Reflecting skies of boundless blue. Though seasons change and years may pass, This tree remains—a steadfast mass. So lean in close when night grows deep, For wisdom lies in roots ...
