She stands in a glow of soft, silent light,
wrapped in whispers of ivory white.
A fleeting moment—pure, divine,
as time itself forgets to chime.

A stray strand dances against her cheek,
brushing her skin, gentle and meek.
With fingertips light as a feather’s sigh,
she tucks it back—oh, my heart replies.

The world dissolves, blurred and still,
lost in the warmth of a smile so real.
Grace in motion, effortless, free,
a vision that lingers, haunting me.

And oh, that white—soft as a dream,
a moonlit wish, a silent theme.
If only she knew, if only she guessed,
how beauty lived in that one small jest.