Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

Where silent mountains guard the stream,

A lone pine whispers ancient tales

Of winter winds and summer gales.

Two travelers met at twilight’s fall,

Where shadows danced upon the wall.

One bore a lamp of amber light,

One carried memories of night.

They spoke of journeys long since passed,

Of friendships forged that ever last.

The stars above began to bloom

As pine-scent filled the gathering gloom.

No moral ends this brief respite—

Just quiet peace beneath the night.

The pines still whisper, low and deep,

While weary wanderers find their sleep.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

Where silent mountains guard the stream,

A lone pine whispers ancient tales

Of winter winds and summer gales.

Two travelers met at twilight’s fall,

Where shadows danced upon the wall.

One bore a lamp of amber light,

One carried memories of night.

They spoke of journeys long since passed,

Of friendships forged that ever last.

The stars above began to bloom

As pine-scent filled the gathering gloom.

No moral ends this brief respite—

Just quiet peace beneath the night.

The pines still whisper, low and deep,

While weary wanderers find their sleep.