Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, While telling tales of timeless love. A traveler rests against its bark, And listens to the forest’s dark. The wind carries a melody, Of secrets held for you and me. Through seasons change and years drift by, The pine still reaches for the sky. Its roots run deep in hallowed ground, Where truth and wonder can be found. So pause awhile and you might hear, The wisdom spanning far a...
