In the shadows of their gentle gaze,
He found the echoes of a tender phase.
Their love, a silent, steadfast flame,
Yet whispered words of quiet blame.
Through corridors of time they tread,
With dreams unspoken, softly said.
A tapestry of joy and sorrow,
Weaving tales of each tomorrow.
He saw in them a mirrored past,
Of choices made, both first and last.
A dance of fate, of hope and fear,
Their legacy both far and near.
In every poem, their spirits roam,
A testament to love and home.
Though time may fade, their essence stays,
In every word, in every phrase.