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, Each note a story, old and deep, That lulls the weary world to sleep. Though seasons change and years unfold, The pine’s warm wisdom neve...
