Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lonely pine begins to sing Of ancient dreams on feathered wing. Once two young hearts in summer’s glow Whispered vows where wildflowers grow. They carved their names on bark so deep, Promises the woods would keep. But seasons turned with frost and fire, One followed truth, one followed desire. Now decades pass with wind and rain, The carving lives, though joy and pain. Yet in the sigh of needled boughs, A peace d...
