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 pauses in the night, Hearing echoes of pure light. The wind composes melodies, That drift through sleeping centuries. One needle falls in silent grace, To find its resting place. The forest holds its breath to keep, This secret while the world’s asleep.
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 pauses in the night, Hearing echoes of pure light. The wind composes melodies, That drift through sleeping centuries. One needle falls in silent grace, To find its resting place. The forest holds its breath to keep, This secret while the world’s asleep.
