In the dawn of dreams, they are but children,
Hearts beating to the rhythm of innocence,
Yet life rushes them to the altar,
Where childhood ends and burdens begin.

The flowers in their hands, not of joy,
But of obligations heavy and cold,
Promises whispered in haste,
Binding futures untold.

The world moves on, indifferent and fast,
While their souls yearn for a past,
Lost in the echoes of laughter,
That now feels so far.

Oh, the unseen shadows of early vows,
Shrouding the light of youthful hearts,
May they find a way to reclaim,
The time and dreams torn apart.