Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a dream Of whispered tales on passing breeze, That rustle through its weary leaves. A traveler paused one twilight dim, And leaned against its gnarled limb. He spoke of mountains wrapped in mist, Of loves he’d lost and tears he’d kissed. The tree, in silent wisdom, heard Each unspoken, painful word. It offered shade, a gentle sigh, As night-birds’ lonely calls swept by. Now when the wind begins to moan, The oak repeats in softened t...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a dream Of whispered tales on passing breeze, That rustle through its weary leaves. A traveler paused one twilight dim, And leaned against its gnarled limb. He spoke of mountains wrapped in mist, Of loves he’d lost and tears he’d kissed. The tree, in silent wisdom, heard Each unspoken, painful word. It offered shade, a gentle sigh, As night-birds’ lonely calls swept by. Now when the wind begins to moan, The oak repeats in softened t...