Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam,

An ancient pine recalls a stream

Where laughing children once did play,

Now but a memory passed away.

Its needles murmur tales of old,

Of lovers’ vows and courage bold,

A witness standing through the years

To joy and sorrow, hopes and fears.

Yet in its whispered evergreen song,

Lives the truth that all belong

To something greater than our days—

A timeless dance in nature’s ways.