Love, not with a chisel, but whispers so bright,
Has carved thee from stone, a radiant light.
A heart once a statue, a figure austere,
Now softened by fondness, emotions held dear.

A gaze, like a brushstroke, a tenderness shown,
Melting the ice, where feelings unknown
Had slumbered in darkness, a prisoner's plight.
Laughter, a melody, chasing away the night.

Love's patient devotion, a sculptor unseen,
Has carved from the stoic, a serene beauty.
A spirit awakened, with passion alight,
Love has carved thee from stone, a glorious sight.
A kind love of my own