Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine shares secret dreams. Its needles trace the starlit way, Where silent memories hold sway. A traveler pauses in the night, Hearing whispers of timeless light. The wind recalls a lover’s vow Lost to centuries, then and now. No moral ends this gentle tale— Just boughs that sway where visions sail, And roots that grip the earth’s deep heart, Guarding stories none can part.
