Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

A lonely stream began to dream.

It whispered secrets to the stones,

Of ancient kings and fallen thrones.

A willow wept with leaves of green,

And shared the tales it had seen—

Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace,

And winter’s frost on every face.

The wind carried a mournful tune,

Beneath the stars and midnight moon.

It sang of journeys, far and wide,

With nowhere left to run or hide.

Yet in the dark, a light remained,

A hope the universe sustained.

For every end, a new beginning,

In cycles ever-spinning, winning.

So listen close when pines whisper low,

There’s more to learn than we can know.