In the hush of dawn while shadows sleep,
She walks where garden dreams are kept.
Her fingers brush over ivy’s vein,
And every leaf recites her name.

“Good day,” the morning whispers low,
The blossoms greet her where she goes.
Her bare feet, soft and careful, tread
Toward the magical day ahead.

The herbs lean close with tales to tell,
Of midnight rains and ancient spells.
She hums a tune the thyme once knew,
And rosemary begins to bloom anew.

The cool wind takes her by the hand,
And through the garden paths they dance.
From the rising sun a shoulder’s kiss,
Her silhouette twirls through yellow mist.

Leaves curl round her like old friends near,
The daisies giggle, lilacs cheer.
She lifts her arms, a spell unwinds,
A blessing sewn on threads of vines.

In the coming light she fades…
Among the garden her song remains,
“Feast, my darlings, on morning dew,
The nighttime’s tears come to bless you.”