The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the stories old, Of lovers’ vows and courage bold. A traveler rests against its bark, And hears the whispers in the dark— Of mountains high and rivers deep, While all the world is wrapped in sleep. The wind composes melodies Through dancing branches, stirring leaves, Each note a timeless, gentle rhyme That transcends the bounds of time.
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the stories old, Of lovers’ vows and courage bold. A traveler rests against its bark, And hears the whispers in the dark— Of mountains high and rivers deep, While all the world is wrapped in sleep. The wind composes melodies Through dancing branches, stirring leaves, Each note a timeless, gentle rhyme That transcends the bounds of time.
