Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what old trees never rue. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace, And winter’s solitary grace. The wind composes melodies, Through needled branches, stirring leaves. Each note a memory held tight, Within the forest’s quiet night. Now rest your weary soul awhile, Let nature share her gentle smile. For in...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Where time herself briefly allows. A traveler paused in twilight’s hue, To hear what old trees never rue. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace, And winter’s solitary grace. The wind composes melodies, Through needled branches, stirring leaves. Each note a memory held tight, Within the forest’s quiet night. Now rest your weary soul awhile, Let nature share her gentle smile. For in...