Sold by a private curator/consultant.

Downhill by QueeNoble

"Downhill Companions"

Two trees stand tall on the mountain’s crest,
Rooted deep where the winds protest.
Side by side, through storms they stay,
Watching the seasons drift away.

Soil-capped peaks in dawn’s embrace,
A silver trail—a skier’s race.
Down they glide, swift and free,
Like whispered tales between the trees.

The mountain hums, the echoes call,
Shadows stretch as nightlights fall.
Two trees remain, their voices low,
Guardians of the drifting soil.

Ajouté le 4 févr. 2025