The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play Through long since faded summer’s day. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows in times of old, Of warriors’ sighs and poets’ dreams In hushed, poetic, woody themes. Each ring within its weathered core Holds secrets from a thousand years or more, Yet stands in silent dignity - A timeless, verdant mystery.
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play Through long since faded summer’s day. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows in times of old, Of warriors’ sighs and poets’ dreams In hushed, poetic, woody themes. Each ring within its weathered core Holds secrets from a thousand years or more, Yet stands in silent dignity - A timeless, verdant mystery.
