Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares whispered dreams. Its branches trace the stars above, While telling tales of timeless love. A traveler rests against its bark, Hearing echoes in the dark— Of dynasties that came and passed, Of friendships forged that forever last. The wind composes melodies Through needled symphonies in the trees, Weaving wisdom from the east For any soul that seeks its feast. Now dawn arrives with gentle light, The pine stands tall in morning brigh...
