Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, Ancient pines share tales of long ago. A wandering bard with weary feet, Finds solace in their rhythm sweet. He listens to the murmuring breeze That sings of mountains, seas, and trees. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace, And winter’s frost on nature’s face. The forest keeps its secrets deep, While all the world is fast asleep. Each branch a page, each leaf a word, The sweetest stories ever heard. At dawn he leaves with newfound grace, The woodland’s wi...
