Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine forest stands in dream.

Its needles murmur tales untold,

Of winters harsh and summers gold.

A traveler paused one starlit night,

Hearing whispers in fading light.

They spoke of love and lost regrets,

Of suns that set without resets.

One tale told of a maiden fair,

Who left her footprints everywhere.

She danced with leaves in autumn’s breeze,

Then vanished mid the towering trees.

Another voice, both old and deep,

Sang of promises none could keep.

Of kings who ruled with iron hand,

Now turned to dust within this land.

The wind grew still as dawn drew near,

The pines fell silent, crystal clear.

The traveler rose with thoughtful mind,

Leaving those whispered worlds behind.

For in the woods where shadows play,

Time itself can lose its way.

Yet every whisper leaves a trace,

On any soul who finds that place.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine forest stands in dream.

Its needles murmur tales untold,

Of winters harsh and summers gold.

A traveler paused one starlit night,

Hearing whispers in fading light.

They spoke of love and lost regrets,

Of suns that set without resets.

One tale told of a maiden fair,

Who left her footprints everywhere.

She danced with leaves in autumn’s breeze,

Then vanished mid the towering trees.

Another voice, both old and deep,

Sang of promises none could keep.

Of kings who ruled with iron hand,

Now turned to dust within this land.

The wind grew still as dawn drew near,

The pines fell silent, crystal clear.

The traveler rose with thoughtful mind,

Leaving those whispered worlds behind.

For in the woods where shadows play,

Time itself can lose its way.

Yet every whisper leaves a trace,

On any soul who finds that place.