Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient oak relates a stream

Of secrets carried on the breeze,

Through rustling leaves and memories.

A traveler paused to hear its tale

Of mountain paths and misty vale,

Where echoes of forgotten rhymes

Dance with the chimes of distant times.

Two centuries the tree has stood,

Witness to both ill and good,

Its rings contain the joy and tears

Of passing days and vanished years.

The story ends as dawn breaks through,

The world awakes refreshed and new,

Yet in the woods the whispers stay—

Guarding truths that won’t fade away.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient oak relates a stream

Of secrets carried on the breeze,

Through rustling leaves and memories.

A traveler paused to hear its tale

Of mountain paths and misty vale,

Where echoes of forgotten rhymes

Dance with the chimes of distant times.

Two centuries the tree has stood,

Witness to both ill and good,

Its rings contain the joy and tears

Of passing days and vanished years.

The story ends as dawn breaks through,

The world awakes refreshed and new,

Yet in the woods the whispers stay—

Guarding truths that won’t fade away.