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 rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s dark. He hears the echoes of the past, Where memories and shadows cast. The wind weaves through the needled green, A living, breathing, sacred scene. Each rustle holds a story true, Of skies both gray and morning blue. Though dawn will break and he must go, The whispered wisdom st...
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 rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s dark. He hears the echoes of the past, Where memories and shadows cast. The wind weaves through the needled green, A living, breathing, sacred scene. Each rustle holds a story true, Of skies both gray and morning blue. Though dawn will break and he must go, The whispered wisdom st...
