The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a fading stream. Through misty valleys, dark and deep, Where ancient pines their secrets keep. He hears a voice upon the breeze, That rustles gently through the trees. It tells of love and long-lost years, Of joy remembered through the tears. A ghostly figure dressed in white, Appears within the pale moonlight. She smiles and points to where two streams unite, Then vanishes into the silent night. The traveler wakes at break of da...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a fading stream. Through misty valleys, dark and deep, Where ancient pines their secrets keep. He hears a voice upon the breeze, That rustles gently through the trees. It tells of love and long-lost years, Of joy remembered through the tears. A ghostly figure dressed in white, Appears within the pale moonlight. She smiles and points to where two streams unite, Then vanishes into the silent night. The traveler wakes at break of da...
