Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pinewood tells a dream.

Its needles trace on forest floor

What time and memory restore.

A traveler paused at eventide

To hear what secrets there abide.

Each bough that swayed in mountain air

Sang chapters of a world more fair.

Through seasons’ turn and ages’ flight,

It guards the stories of the night—

How stars were born in crystal streams,

And hope took root in barren dreams.

Now rest your heart where shadows play,

And let the pines your cares away.

For in their whispered, timeless art

Lives nature’s everlasting heart.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pinewood tells a dream.

Its needles trace on forest floor

What time and memory restore.

A traveler paused at eventide

To hear what secrets there abide.

Each bough that swayed in mountain air

Sang chapters of a world more fair.

Through seasons’ turn and ages’ flight,

It guards the stories of the night—

How stars were born in crystal streams,

And hope took root in barren dreams.

Now rest your heart where shadows play,

And let the pines your cares away.

For in their whispered, timeless art

Lives nature’s everlasting heart.