WHISPERS OF THE QUIET GROVE Beneath the hush of softened skies,
Where gentle leaves in silence rise,
A heart once torn by storm and grief,
Now finds in stillness, sweet relief.
The winds once howled with cruel disdain,
Each whisper laced with ghost of pain,
Yet through the thorns, a light did grow—
A bond that roots where kindness flows.
No trumpet call, no grand parade,
Just hands that reached and fears that stayed.
In loyalty, their warmth was sown,
And from despair, new hope was grown.
Now side by side, through calm or storm,
Their hearts entwined in steadfast form.
The grove they built from scars and grace—
A sacred, ever-blooming place.
