The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream That sang of journeys yet untold, In melodies both brave and old. A traveler paused to hear its song, And in that moment, felt less alone. The wind through needles seemed to say: “Each path we choose will fade away, But wonder lingers where we’ve gone.” Now stars above keep watch all night, Guarding stories in their light.
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream That sang of journeys yet untold, In melodies both brave and old. A traveler paused to hear its song, And in that moment, felt less alone. The wind through needles seemed to say: “Each path we choose will fade away, But wonder lingers where we’ve gone.” Now stars above keep watch all night, Guarding stories in their light.
