Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play In sunlit waves of yesterday. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows in times of old, Of warriors resting in its shade Before their final vows were made. The wind now sings through boughs so high A lullaby to time gone by, While stars above like memories gleam— A forest’s everlasting dream.
