My Olive Branch

In the garden of discord, where silence had grown,

A whisper of peace, through the stillness was sown.

An olive branch offered, in hands open wide,

A gesture of truce, where grudges subside.

Leaves of forgiveness,

in soft silver hues,

Unfurl in the breezes,

as if to infuse,

An air filled in hope, that hearts can repair,

The rifts that once seamed; too torn; too frayed from this tare.

The branch may be slender, but sturdy its hold,

A symbol of stories, yet to be spoken, yet to be told.

Of bridges rebuilt, over rivers of spite,

Where kindness prevails, turning wrong Into rights.

With olive in branching, and thee; lest be start,

A chapter newly written, in cursive ink from my heart.

Where words are the seeds, and actions the light,

what once was just believed, now soars in real flight

In the garden of tomorrow, where peace finds my soul;

written in the stars, which tale of my whole

A story Of Our Love, and its blundering might,

Where our bond becomes font; and Bold letters its might.