Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine forest whispers secrets in a dream. Each needle holds a story untold, Of winters harsh and summers bold. A traveler paused one starlit night, Hearing the trees sigh with gentle might. They spoke of love that never dies, Reflected in the endless skies. One tale told of a painter’s hand, Who tried to capture this mystical land. But colors failed to truly convey, The peace that in these woods would stay. So sit awhile and listen close, To wha...
