The ivy climbs, the stones stand tall,
Yet all feels lighter at your call.
Your presence bends the night to stay,
And turns the dark to softest day.

The roses hush, their colors sleep,
They bow to grace they cannot keep.
Your glance alone, a fleeting flame,
And nothing here remains the same.

The wall grows kind beneath your gaze,
It warms to catch the light you raise.
The air itself forgets its chill,
Enchanted by your tender will.