She is the bloom of dawn's first light,
A quite whisper of the night,
In every step, in every glance,
She moves the world with silent dance.
Her voice, a song of tender hues,
Soft as petals kissed by dews,
Yet fierce as oceans' hidden tides,
With strength and grace she gently guides.
Se dreams in clolors never seen,
Her soul a canvas, pure, serene,
A fire within that softly burns,
Through love, she lives, through pain, she learns.
In every tear, a river flows,
In every smile, a garden grows,
Her spirit wild, yet still untamed,
Her heart a story, yet unnamed.
She is the poem, the painter's brush,
The fleeting breeze, the evening hush,
A masterpiece the world can't hold,
A tale of courage, quitely told.
For in her veins, the stars reside,
With every breath, she turns the tide,
A Woman's strength - a gentle art,
An endless beauty in her heart.
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