In misty mornings where whispers linger,
Love blooms softly, like dew on heather,
Gentle hands weave through ancient gardens,
Hearts entwined, in quiet reverence.
Cobbled paths under the watchful moon,
Every step a dance, a whispered tune,
Stories told in glances, softly exchanged,
In the timeless embrace of evening’s refrain.
Tea cups clink in cozy alcoves,
Laughter echoes, a sonnet unfolds,
Through rain-kissed windows, love’s silhouette,
Paints a picture of dreams never met.
In the shadows of grand old cathedrals,
Vows are whispered, eternal and regal,
The quiet elegance of British love,
A tapestry woven with threads of the heart.