In shadows deep where hearts of gold reside,

Their whispered wishes echo soft and sweet;

Yet lustful yearnings hid from prying eyes,

Buried beneath the sun's relentless heat.

For sweetest dreams or tragic tales of woe,

Fleeting forms of love and passions spent;

Lead mournful souls through love's vast labyrinth,

Their hollow cries despairing voices lent.

To find true comfort in this earthly sphere,

The simple breath of tender touch or sigh:

May fan the glowing embers of love's flame,

And veil the darkness of a velvet sky.

Such subtle warmth in formless dark doth grace,

Serenely bides the quiet of love's embrace.

As colors bleed the sky in austere hues,

The breath of nightfall doth its heaving sigh,

Where stammer'd whispers choke on love's disuse,

And meek entreaties in the darkness die.

Why frets the world in shrouded cruelty?

What tempest churns and wrings these veins of care,

When star-crossed lives unravel woefully,

And woven dreams in slumb'ring throes despair?

Sweet muse, begone: thy gall'd hearts reeking sore,

May sink as leaden weight in silent pool;

Where passion's fire expires on cold, dead floor,

And spake the truth: these tides of love are cruel.

Yet every dawn doth rend apart the veil,

And Time, that dauntless healer, cures what ail.

In soft embrace of sun, sweet Nature's womb,

The rose doth bask, content its blush to bear;

And unadorned, in all its bated bloom,

Revels 'midst verdant fields both rich and rare.

Yet, tho' beholden to this fervent light,

Regret the rosy face shall find in haste,

When dull embrace comes conquering the night,

And sober solitude, its vital waste.

For soon shall shadows cast in lowering skies,

Like jealous thoughts o'er kindling heart be thrown;

And wretched, wilting, burdened flower sighs -

Its beauty shivering in the cold, unknown.

The rose hath failed to heed Love's subtle chill,

Ere heart of winter doth its longing kill.

In twilight's grasp, a lark does sing its song,

As crimson skies doth bid the day adieu;

Yet evermore, I dream to play along

And mend the rift that seems to ever brew.

What balm emerges in the night's embrace,

When hearts doth yearn for love's undying fire;

And souls in search for light dost give them chase,

Awakening tender blooms of pure desire?

The crescent moon, one eye upon the world,

She proffers solace to the grieving heart;

As stars among the ether's canvas, whirled,

Illuminate the shadows, forming art.

In nighttime's canvas we do find our peace,

As lovers' whispers dance upon our ears.

In stolen hours, sweet time's unwitting thief,

Doth lay upon the meadow's tender green,

A dance of shadows, splayed in vast relief,

Whilst whispers soft, like sprightly jigs, convene.

What gentle breeze doth coax the boughs to sway,

Their secrets shared, as tender leaves collide,

Like heart's content that knows no bounds to play,

In whispered hush, where lovers dare confide.

But shadows dim, under the moon's soft spell,

A shy embrace with night's cool breath unite,

In sighs of love and truth their hearts do dwell,

And worry not of dawn's disruptive light.

So, on this stage of nature's hidden play,

The trees, with shadows, love's sweet dance display.