Her hair, a cascade of shadows, spun from silken night,
Frames her work, a masterpiece, in the morning’s gentle light.
Drawing closer, she weaves a path, where flowers bloom and grow,
As if the earth itself responds, to the grace she does bestow.
Her hair, a cascade of shadows, spun from silken night,
Frames her work, a masterpiece, in the morning’s gentle light.
Drawing closer, she weaves a path, where flowers bloom and grow,
As if the earth itself responds, to the grace she does bestow.
Robert Walker 