Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lonely pine begins to sing Of ancient dreams on breeze-borne wing. Once stood two trees, roots intertwined, Through summer sun and winter wind. One fell to time, one stands alone, With whispered secrets softly known. Now travelers pause at eventide To hear the song that won’t subside— A tale of bonds that still remain In nature’s everlasting chain.