She is the verse the heavens sing,
Adorned in red, a royal thing,
A vision cast in twilight's glow,
Where only stars dare softly go.
Her grace, a dance of whispered light,
That turns the dark to purest white,
In her eyes, the galaxies sleep,
In her smile, the heavens weep.
So fair, so bright, so unrefined,
A beauty that both hearts and time confide—
Yet here I stand, in awe I confess,
Captive to her quiet, endless finesse.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 12:46 PM UTC
She is the verse the heavens sing,
Adorned in red, a royal thing,
A vision cast in twilight's glow,
Where only stars dare softly go.
Her grace, a dance of whispered light,
That turns the dark to purest white,
In her eyes, the galaxies sleep,
In her smile, the heavens weep.
So fair, so bright, so unrefined,
A beauty that both hearts and time confide—
Yet here I stand, in awe I confess,
Captive to her quiet, endless finesse.
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