Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a stream Where laughing children once did play Through long forgotten summer days. Its needles murmur tales untold Of lovers’ vows and warriors bold, Of whispered secrets on the breeze That rustle through its memory. A solitary owl takes flight Through constellations burning bright, While roots embrace the sleeping earth Where new dreams wait for their rebirth. The dawn will come with golden light To end this quiet watch of night, ...
