Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine begins to sing Of ancient dreams the breezes bring. Its needles tremble, soft and low, With secrets from the long ago— Of lovers’ vows in twilight made, Of memories that never fade. Two travelers on a dusty road, Beneath the tree their hearts unload; They speak of journeys yet to start, Then press the promise to their heart. The wind carries their whispered words, Like songs of hope from nesting birds, Thro...
