The Whispering Pines
<The Whispering Pines> Beneath the silver moon's gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper secrets soft and low. Their branches weave tales of ages past, Of fleeting moments and shadows cast. A traveler pauses, listening near, To stories carried on the wind so clear. Of mountains high and valleys deep, Promises the wilds have sworn to keep. Time stands still in this hallowed space, As constellations slowly chase The dawn that breaks with hues of gold, Another chapter yet untold.
The Whispering Pines
<The Whispering Pines> Beneath the silver moon's gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper secrets soft and low. Their branches weave tales of ages past, Of fleeting moments and shadows cast. A traveler pauses, listening near, To stories carried on the wind so clear. Of mountains high and valleys deep, Promises the wilds have sworn to keep. Time stands still in this hallowed space, As constellations slowly chase The dawn that breaks with hues of gold, Another chapter yet untold.
