The corridors stretch, cobwebbed with dreams,
Whispers of the forest weave through the mist,
Here, echoes sculpted from passion and time,
Like footsteps upon fallen leaves, love's soft hymn.
By the bend of the vine-laced path, a sigh stirs,
Your silhouette amongst ivy, eternal as the stars.
In the murmurs of thyme and bramble, I recall—
The depths of your gaze, a flame caught in repose.