The ivy leans where silence stays,
It bends to you in quiet praise.
The night itself forgets its call,
And bows before your lighted wall.

The roses hush, the breeze grows kind,
It leaves your fragrance close behind.
Each petal falls yet none regret,
The glow the world cannot forget.

The stones turn warm beneath your hand,
They hold the grace they understand.
Though silent walls can never speak,
Their stillness bends to what they seek.