Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what only pines construe. Of lovers’ vows in seasons past, Of friendships forged that ever last. The wind carries each sylvan word, Like songs of some far-distant bird. Till dawn arrives with gentle light, To end the council of the night.

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what only pines construe. Of lovers’ vows in seasons past, Of friendships forged that ever last. The wind carries each sylvan word, Like songs of some far-distant bird. Till dawn arrives with gentle light, To end the council of the night.