Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the passing years, Through whispered joys and silent tears. A traveler rests against its bark, Hears stories in the deepening dark. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace, Of winter’s frost on nature’s face. The wind composes melodies Through branches swaying in the breeze. Each cone that falls upon the earth Holds tales of resilience and worth. At dawn the sun will gild its leaves, As timeless wisdom s...
