We planted dreams in rows so neat,
With dirt-stained hands and aching feet.
We laughed as seeds fell side by side,
And watched the rain become our guide.

The seasons turned, the vines took hold,
The earth was kissed with roots of gold.
The flowers bloomed, the harvest grew,
A promise made, a love we knew.

But then one spring, you left too soon,
The garden mourned beneath the moon.
The rows still stretched, the soil still strong,
But something deep now felt so wrong.

Yet even in the loss and pain,
Your love still grows with every rain.
For in the garden, you remain,
A bloom in sun, a song in rain.