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, And listens to the forest’s dark. The wind carries a lullaby, As night birds softly flutter by. Through seasons changed and years gone past, This pine tree’s memories still last. It holds the joy and holds the tears Of countless wandering wayfarers. Now in this quiet, still repose, A deeper understanding gro...
