The roses hush, the world grows still,
It bends before your tender will.
Each star becomes a faint design,
Beside the glow that makes you shine.

The stones once worn are soft with grace,
They warm beneath your quiet face.
Though time has carved its weight and line,
Your beauty makes their age divine.

The roses hush, the night holds near,
It longs to keep your presence here.
Each whisper grows, each silence stays,
To guard the glow your spirit lays.