Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine whispers ancient dreams Of passing years and mountain themes. Two travelers pause to hear its song, One old, one young, they walk along Through mists that veil the wooded trail Where timeless stories still prevail. The elder speaks of joys and fears, Of laughter turned to silent tears, While youthful eyes watch fireflies rise Like floating stars in night’s disguise. They share no wine, yet hearts feel light...
