The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a babbling stream. Through misty mountains, 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 and sorrow, hopes and fears. A maiden waits by water’s edge, Her heart upon a stony ledge. She gazes where the stars reflect, For memories she can’t reject. The traveler pauses, feels her pain, Then slowly walks thro...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely traveler follows a babbling stream. Through misty mountains, 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 and sorrow, hopes and fears. A maiden waits by water’s edge, Her heart upon a stony ledge. She gazes where the stars reflect, For memories she can’t reject. The traveler pauses, feels her pain, Then slowly walks thro...
