Whispers Beneath the Wishing Tree
Beneath the twilight's quiet gleam,
A tree stands still, a keeper of dream.
Its roots hold secrets, old and deep,
Its leaves are stirred by those who weep.
No voice is raised, no lanterns lit,
Just whispered hopes where wanderers sit.
A wish is made, then left in trust—
To bark and bough, to branch and dust.
And if the stars begin to sway,
The tree has heard… and tucked it away.