An ancient pinewood tells a dream.

Its needles trace on forest floor,

Secrets from a timeless lore.

A traveler paused to hear its sigh,

As night winds gently wandered by.

Each whisper spoke of ages past—

Of friendships forged and shadows cast.

One tale it shared of two young trees,

That grew together in the breeze.

Their roots entwined below the earth,

In silent, everlasting mirth.

Through storms they stood, through winters long,

And turned their grief to morning song.

Now centuries have come and gone,

Their legacy still carries on.

So listen when the pines reply—

There’s wisdom in their soft reply.

For in their voice, both old and deep,

Lullabies that never sleep.