In the garden of your mind, I am but a whisper,
shears glinting under a crescent moon.
Cutting through silence, I seek, I yearn,
a melody played on an endless loop.
You, the fleeting shadow, the soft gaze,
my heart's token, forever poised to sever.
The moon, an accomplice in our eternal dance.
Each snip, each sigh, a record player stuck,
the needle lost to the groove of memories,
spinning tales of longing, binding, unbinding.
With each shear, a promise, a curse
etched into the fabric of now and forever.
You are the summer rain,
the distant thunder that calls and calms.
Shears in hand, I await your touch,
the loop continues, unbroken, unyielding.