Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Two ancient pines share whispered dreams. Their roots entwined in earth’s deep hold, Their branches weaving stories old. They speak of seasons come and gone, Of winter’s frost and summer’s dawn. A tale of time in gentle sighs, Beneath the vast and starry skies. Though storms may rage and winds may cry, They stand together, you and I. In silent strength, they both remain— Guardians of joy and pain.
