Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what only pines construe. Of lovers’ vows in seasons past, How joyful moments ever last. The wind composes melodies, That drift through sleeping centuries. Each needle holds a drop of dew, Containing skies of boundless blue. Now dawn arrives with gentle hand, Across this timeless forest land. The pin...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what only pines construe. Of lovers’ vows in seasons past, How joyful moments ever last. The wind composes melodies, That drift through sleeping centuries. Each needle holds a drop of dew, Containing skies of boundless blue. Now dawn arrives with gentle hand, Across this timeless forest land. The pin...