Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine forest stands in dream. Its needles murmur tales untold, Of wandering souls and legends old. A traveler paused one autumn night, To rest within the soothing light. He heard the whispers in the breeze, That rustled through the towering trees. They spoke of love and courage vast, Of friendships forged that ever last. Of mountains high and oceans deep, And promises the stars still keep. The wind-carved stories, wise and true, Gave strength to...