The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine forest stands in dream. Its needles murmur tales untold, Of winters harsh and summers gold. A traveler paused one starlit night, Hearing whispers in fading light. They spoke of love, of loss, of time, In rhythms matching nature’s rhyme. One pine recalled a princess’ tear, Another sang of vanished years. The wind carried their stories far, Beyond the mountains, past each star. The wanderer left at break of day, With forest secrets tucked aw...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine forest stands in dream. Its needles murmur tales untold, Of winters harsh and summers gold. A traveler paused one starlit night, Hearing whispers in fading light. They spoke of love, of loss, of time, In rhythms matching nature’s rhyme. One pine recalled a princess’ tear, Another sang of vanished years. The wind carried their stories far, Beyond the mountains, past each star. The wanderer left at break of day, With forest secrets tucked aw...
