Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace tales on the breeze— Of mountain paths and frozen streams. A traveler pauses in the night, Hearing whispers in fading light. The tree recalls a poet’s song That made these very branches strong. “Roots dig deep where memories lie, Stars are tears in time’s vast eye.” The words still dance through rustling boughs, Echoing nature’s timeless vows. Dawn arrives with gold and gray, The wanderer continues o...
