Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak relates a dream. Of seasons passed in hushed repose, Where wisdom in each ringlet grows. Two travelers on a dusty road Shared stories as their burdens slowed. One spoke of mountains yet unscaled, The other of how friendship never failed. Through whispered tales the night grew deep, While stars their silent vigil keep. The dawn then painted skies anew With gold and rose and sapphire hue. They parted where two pathways crossed, But carried wh...
