Beneath the azure, endless skies,
The mountains rise, so high, so wise.
Standing tall, with stories untold,
Their ancient hearts, a sight to behold.
Cloaked in mist, with crowns of snow,
They watch the valleys far below.
Guardian sentinels, silent and grand,
Sculpted by natureâs gentle hand.
The winds that weave through craggy spires,
Sing songs of old with whispering choirs.
Echoes of time, in each rugged face,
Remind us of our fleeting grace.
In twilight’s glow, they softly gleam,
As moonlight casts a silver beam.
Mountains stand, serene and pure,
Forever strong, forever sure.