Trembled in Hope

He gave her flowers born of soul, not stem,

Words not rehearsed but written for them.

Built dreams with hands that trembled in hope,

Climbed every silence like a hanging rope.

He bent like branches in the storm’s sharp wail,

Hoping his truth would somehow prevail.

Each “I love you” felt like a test—

Never enough, never deemed best.

She wore his efforts like fading perfume,

Cold in the light, warm in the gloom.

And still he stayed, through wound and scar,

Chasing a heart that ran too far.

A good man breaks in silent rooms,

Where love turns grave and hope resumes.

For no pain cuts deeper than the fight

To prove your love when love takes flight.