Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pinewood tells a dream. Its needles trace on forest floor What time and memory restore. A traveler paused at eventide Where shadows and slow breezes glide. He heard a voice like rustling deep That stirred long-forgotten sleep. “Two lovers met where branches twine, And pledged their hearts with words divine. They carved their names upon my bark, A promise shining through the dark.” The wind arose with gentle sigh - The carving faded by and by. Y...
