In the garden where silence speaks,
Among the roses and the dew,
Christina whispers in gentle streaks,
Her verses timeless, ever true.

Beneath the moon’s soft, glowing light,
Her words dance like shadows cast,
Painting dreams in the heart of night,
Unveiling truths that ever last.

Her pen, a brush with colors bold,
Sketches of sorrow, love, and grace,
In every line, her soul unfolds,
A reflection of the human race.

Through the corridors of time she sails,
Leaving footprints on sands of thought,
A poet’s legacy that never pales,
In her lines, eternity is sought.