A tale unfolds where moonlight spills, of an ancient tree on silent hills. Its leaves would dance in silver hue, and share old secrets, wise and true. One night a traveler, lost and worn, beneath its boughs found solace born. The branches swayed with gentle grace, and whispered of a hidden place where rivers sing and starlight gleams, beyond the realm of waking dreams. He followed through the misty fray, to greet the dawn of newfound day.
