Brew him a love potion

In the quiet corners of the night,
I gather threads of candlelight,
A pinch of warmth from autumn's air,
And whispers soft as a prayer.
 
I pluck the stars from evening skies,
And weave them into secret ties,
With petals from a rose in bloom,
To fill his heart and light the room.
 
Touch of laughter, shy and true,
A trace of all the things we knew,
And honeyed words, both sweet and soft,
To lift him when his spirit's lost.
 
I stir with care, with gentle hands,
A potion born of time's demands—
Not magic spells, nor witch’s art,
But every beat of my own heart.
 
For love, I know, is not a brew,
But still, I’ll make this gift for you—
A sip of trust, a taste of grace,
To remind you of my warm embrace.
 
And when the world feels far and cold,
May this potion make you bold,
To know that, always, love is near,
In every whispered word you hear.