They wove my dreams on a ribboned sky,
With threads of love that never die.
Rose-gold whispers, cherry wine air,
Soft as his hands in my tangled hair.
A needle dipped in morning’s blush,
Pulled through the cloth in a lover’s hush.
Silken vows and honeyed grace,
Woven deep in the fabric’s face.
The sweetest dreams are stitched in gold,
In patterns warm and gently bold.
Even the storms have silver seams,
Love lives loud in quiet dreams.
So wrap me up in that living art,
A tapestry sewn from a faithful heart.
Each thread is a promise, soft and true,
A life of love in every hue.