Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine shares whispered dreams.

Its branches trace the stars above,

While telling tales of timeless love.

A traveler rests against its bark,

Hearing echoes in the dark—

Of poets who once paused here too,

And found their inspiration true.

The wind carries their verses old,

In every rustling story told.

Nature’s poetry, evergreen,

In silent forests, unseen.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine shares whispered dreams.

Its branches trace the stars above,

While telling tales of timeless love.

A traveler rests against its bark,

Hearing echoes in the dark—

Of poets who once paused here too,

And found their inspiration true.

The wind carries their verses old,

In every rustling story told.

Nature’s poetry, evergreen,

In silent forests, unseen.