Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine tree stands in grace, With memories etched on every space. Its needles murmur ancient tales Of passing winds and mountain trails, Of lovers’ vows once whispered there Beneath its boughs in fragrant air. Seasons change, yet still it grows, Cradling stars as nightfall glows, A timeless sentinel so wise— With roots deep in earth’s lullabies.
