Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a dream Of whispered tales on passing breeze, That rustle through its trembling leaves. A traveler paused one twilight dim, And leaned against its mossy limb. He shared his joy, his hidden fears, As stars began to pierce the spheres. The tree stood guard through decades deep, Its promises in silence keep. Now wanderers still feel the grace In this quiet, hallowed place. Though seasons change and years unfold, The stories in its hear...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a dream Of whispered tales on passing breeze, That rustle through its trembling leaves. A traveler paused one twilight dim, And leaned against its mossy limb. He shared his joy, his hidden fears, As stars began to pierce the spheres. The tree stood guard through decades deep, Its promises in silence keep. Now wanderers still feel the grace In this quiet, hallowed place. Though seasons change and years unfold, The stories in its hear...