The stones recall, the ivy sings,
The world is soft on twilight wings.
Your presence writes what stars can’t tell,
And lights the dark where silence fell.

The roses hush, the garden dreams,
It folds your glow in silver streams.
Each petal falls, yet blooms anew,
For night itself is shaped by you.

The ivy leans, the wall turns bright,
It shimmers softly in your light.
Each shadow fades, each silence stills,
Obeying beauty’s quiet will.