Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper tales of long ago. Their branches sway in the night’s soft breeze, Carrying secrets through rustling leaves. A traveler rests against weathered bark, Listening to echoes in the dark. Of mountains old and rivers deep, Promises the trees forever keep. Each needle holds a story untold— Of winters harsh and summers gold. They sing of time’s relentless flow, And all the things they’ve come to know. The wind composes their endless song, W...

Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow, Ancient pines whisper tales of long ago. Their branches sway in the night’s soft breeze, Carrying secrets through rustling leaves. A traveler rests against weathered bark, Listening to echoes in the dark. Of mountains old and rivers deep, Promises the trees forever keep. Each needle holds a story untold— Of winters harsh and summers gold. They sing of time’s relentless flow, And all the things they’ve come to know. The wind composes their endless song, W...