Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine forest stands in dream. Its needled boughs, with wisdom deep, Guard secrets that the mountains keep. A traveler walked this lonely road, His heart was heavy, his spirit slowed. But as the wind began to sing, The trees shared their comforting offering. They spoke of time, of joy and strife, The quiet resilience of life. His burdens lifted, his path made clear, By the whispered hope he chose to hear. Now when night falls and stars align, Rem...
