Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play In sunlit waves of yesterday. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows and courage bold, Of seasons passed in endless dance Through time’s unyielding, vast expanse. A wandering bard with weary feet Paused by its shade, his soul complete As whispers from the boughs above Taught him the poetry of love. Now travelers on this mountain way Still hear the pines at close of day Repeat ...
