Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play Through long since faded summer’s day. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows and courage bold, Of whispered secrets on the breeze That rustle through its memory. A lone wolf howls a mournful tune Beneath the constellations’ swoon, While stars like diamonds pierce the night With everlasting distant light. The tree still stands through time’s embrace, Keeper of this sacred spac...
