In the garden of youth, a delicate flower blooms,
A symbol of purity, and a heart that assumes,
The gentle touch of love, will be the first to unfold,
But fate has other plans, and a different story to be told.

A moment of surrender, to the wrong hands,
A fragmented heart, and a shattered stand,
The loss of innocence, like autumn leaves that fall,
A memory that haunts, and a wound that enthralls.

The ghost of what could've been, a lingering sigh,
A whisper of regret, that echoes in the night,
The weight of "what if", a burden to bear,
A heart that's lost its way, and a soul that's scarred.

But even in the darkness, a glimmer of hope appears,
A chance to rediscover, and wipe away the tears,
To learn from the mistake, and find a way to heal,
To rise from the ashes, and a new path to reveal.

For though the first touch, may have been misplaced,
The heart's capacity for love, remains unerased,
And though the memory lingers, it will fade with time,
And a new love will blossom, like a rose in its prime.