Beneath the moon's soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the stories old, Of lovers brave and fortunes told. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest's dark. The wind carries a faint reply— "New dawns will greet each passing sigh." Through seasons' turn and time's swift flight, The tree still whispers through the night. Its roots hold tales of joy and strife, A living archive of wild life.

Beneath the moon's soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the stories old, Of lovers brave and fortunes told. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest's dark. The wind carries a faint reply— "New dawns will greet each passing sigh." Through seasons' turn and time's swift flight, The tree still whispers through the night. Its roots hold tales of joy and strife, A living archive of wild life.