Where walls once spoke of time and pain,
Your presence washes every stain.
Each shadow flees, each crack turns gold,
When beauty writes its truth untold.

The roses hush, their fragrance still,
They bow beneath your gentle will.
The garden sleeps, the breezes rest,
And all is held within your chest.

The stones recall forgotten years,
Yet all grows soft when you appear.
Their weight dissolves, their silence bends,
And every scar your beauty mends.