Does trust return on gentle wing,
like birds that find their way to spring?
Or once it’s lost, does it remain,
a shadow cast, a lingering stain?

Is trust a thread that, once undone,
can never weave back into one?
Or does it mend, though frayed and worn,
a fabric stronger where it’s torn?

Is trust a whisper on the breeze,
a fleeting touch, a phantom tease?
Or does it root in ground anew,
where time and care may let it bloom?

What say you...can trust revive,
or is it only once alive?