Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, While telling tales of timeless love. A traveler pauses in the night, Hearing echoes of pure light. The wind composes melodies, That drift through forests and calm seas. One needle falls in silent grace, To find its home in time and space. This moment holds what words can’t say— The peace that walks the hidden way.
