The Whispering Pines
<The Whispering Pines> Beneath the moon's soft silver gleam, An ancient pinewood tells a dream. Its needled boughs in breezes sigh Of passing years and time gone by. One traveler paused to hear its tale— How winter’s frost and summer’s gale Had shaped each branch and weathered bark Through seasons bright and evenings dark. A whispered truth the pines impart: “There’s wisdom in a steadfast heart.” No more he rushed—he stayed to see The beauty of just being free.
The Whispering Pines
<The Whispering Pines> Beneath the moon's soft silver gleam, An ancient pinewood tells a dream. Its needled boughs in breezes sigh Of passing years and time gone by. One traveler paused to hear its tale— How winter’s frost and summer’s gale Had shaped each branch and weathered bark Through seasons bright and evenings dark. A whispered truth the pines impart: “There’s wisdom in a steadfast heart.” No more he rushed—he stayed to see The beauty of just being free.
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It sings of mountains where the eagles stray, And shadows lengthen at the close of day. It carries tales of blossoms, soft and white, That dance upon the breeze in pale moonlight. Of willow branches dipping low to drink, And dragonflies that skim the water’s brink. The water flows, though seasons come and go, Through fields of green and winter’s silent snow. It murmurs on, a never-ending rhyme, Beyond th...
The Whispering Brook
A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It sings of mountains where the eagles stray, And shadows lengthen at the close of day. It carries tales of blossoms, soft and white, That dance upon the breeze in pale moonlight. Of willow branches dipping low to drink, And dragonflies that skim the water’s brink. The water flows, though seasons come and go, Through fields of green and winter’s silent snow. It murmurs on, a never-ending rhyme, Beyond th...
