In gardens green where blossoms sway, He found not petals, bright and gay, But roots entwined beneath the earth, That held the stories of her birth. While others praised the fleeting bloom, He saw the strength beneath the loom, Where seasons shift and colors fade, Her essence in the soil was laid. Through autumn's chill and leaves that fall, He cherished roots that stood so tall, For love, he knew, was not the flower, But in the depths, where growth held power. In winter's grasp, as blooms forgot, Their steady bond would falter not, For he loved her soul, the roots so deep, Where dreams and promises softly sleep.