The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine tree stands in grace, And time has carved its ancient face. The wind composes tales untold Of winters harsh and summers gold, Each needle holds a memory deep, Guardian of promises to keep. Through centuries of sun and rain, It bears both joy and passing pain, Yet reaches always for the light— A timeless sentinel of night. So stand like pine through calm and storm, With roots both delicate and warm, For in t...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine tree stands in grace, And time has carved its ancient face. The wind composes tales untold Of winters harsh and summers gold, Each needle holds a memory deep, Guardian of promises to keep. Through centuries of sun and rain, It bears both joy and passing pain, Yet reaches always for the light— A timeless sentinel of night. So stand like pine through calm and storm, With roots both delicate and warm, For in t...
