In a quaint alcove of a sunlit room,
Buds of love start to bloom,
Nestled within a clay flower pot,
The quintessence of affection took root.
Inscribed in the petals and leaves,
Are tender devotion and sentiments,
The blended fragrance of melancholic yearning emanates,
From a crestfallen flower seeking botanical caress.
Like the untamed tendrils of the vines,
Aspiring to meander without constraints,
To sprawl this floral passion for you wholeheartedly,
In the grandeur of the Garden of Liberty.
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InkHeart Poetry 