Garden of Ruins.

A garden, once a verdant dream, Where loyalty and trust did gleam, With blooms of faith, in every hue, A testament to love, forever true. The air, a symphony of birdsong sweet, Where whispers of devotion, softly greet, A tapestry of tender, loyal vines, Entwined with hearts, in sacred lines. But shadows crept, a chilling breeze, A whisper of deceit, on treacherous trees, Betrayal's fire, a burning brand, Consumed the garden, leaving scorched land. Hatred's flames, with venomous might, Devoured the beauty, choked the light, Loyal roots, once strong and deep, Now withered, secrets buried in sleep. The blossoms, vibrant, now turned to ash, A testament to trust, in a bitter clash, The garden, silent, a desolate scene, Where love once bloomed, now only weeds convene. But from the embers, hope may rise, A whisper of forgiveness, in the skies, For even in the ashes, a seed may lie, Waiting for rain, to bloom anew, and try. Though scarred and wounded, the garden waits, To heal and grow, beyond the gates, With lessons learned, and wisdom gained, A resilience born, from love sustained.