Visit

A gentle knock upon the garden gate,
The scent of lavender drifts on the breeze,
We step inside, where time seems to abate,
And share a pot of tea beneath the trees.

Your laughter rings like bells in empty halls,
The kettle sings its soft, familiar tune,
We trade our stories while the afternoon
Slips slowly by, a quiet, warm monsoon.

When dusk arrives and shadows stretch their feet,
We linger still, reluctant to depart—
A visit’s gift, a memory so sweet,
That lingers long within the loyal heart.