Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient oak recalls a stream That once did through the valley wind, Carving stories in its mind. A traveler paused one autumn night, His lantern casting fragile light, He heard the pines in gentle sigh, Recounting tales of days gone by. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s embrace, Of warriors’ calm and noble grace, Of seasons turning, year on year, Whispering truths for all to hear. He left at dawn, a changed man, Part of the forest’s endless plan, Carrying on...
