The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through ages past, Where shadows blend and memories last. A traveler paused to hear its sigh, As stars began to dot the sky. The tree spoke of a love long gone, Two hearts that met at early dawn. They carved their names upon its bark, A fleeting spark in darkness stark. Though seasons turned and years flew by, The pine still holds their longing cry. Now wanderers who pass this way May hear its branches ...
The Whispering Pines
Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through ages past, Where shadows blend and memories last. A traveler paused to hear its sigh, As stars began to dot the sky. The tree spoke of a love long gone, Two hearts that met at early dawn. They carved their names upon its bark, A fleeting spark in darkness stark. Though seasons turned and years flew by, The pine still holds their longing cry. Now wanderers who pass this way May hear its branches ...
