Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lone wolf howls to stars above, Echoing tales of timeless love. Two ancient pines, with branches twined, Keep secrets in their bark confined. They witnessed empires rise and fall, And heard the poet’s earnest call. A traveler rests beneath their shade, With memories of choices made. The wind carries a faint refrain— A melody of joy and pain. Though centuries may drift away, The pines still whisper through the day...
