The ivy leans with quiet grace,
It longs to touch your shining face.
The stones grow warm, the night turns kind,
And leaves its weight of years behind.

The roses hush, the stars lean near,
They ache to keep your presence here.
Each petal falls, each silence stays,
To echo light in endless ways.

The wall once cold now seems alive,
It breathes because your steps arrive.
No shadow dares, no darkness calls,
When beauty crowns its ancient walls.