Beneath lanterns newly born,
her laughter carved out the morn;
silks of twilight graced her form,
bending stars to meet her storm.
Braids once ruled her tempered days,
now her tresses spill like bays;
rivers tracing silent songs,
wild yet where my heart belongs.
Gossamer upon her skin,
modest blush with daring sin;
woven light and whispered flame,
both conceal and shout her name.
Diamonds hum along her trail,
fabrics chant an unseen tale;
I, in humble woven wear,
matched her luster unaware.
The city knelt to her sway,
dressed in threads of jeweled day;
each glance she wore like a crown,
turning alleys upside down.
From stone walls to mirrored streams,
she lit fires within my dreams;
in her hands, the seasons turned,
in her eyes, the heavens burned.
Her every stitch spelled delight,
her every step birthed the night;
while I, clothed in modest hues,
wore her wonder in my muse.
Fragrant winds stitched in her hair,
braided wishes caught midair;
loosened strands spoke sweeter oaths,
vowing love between our growths.
Cost was dust beneath her feet,
rich or poor, the souls still meet;
though her robes shamed ruby's gleam,
mine bore pride stitched in a dream.
Thus our meeting bled through time,
wreathed in song, adorned in rhyme;
not by cloth nor coin we're known,
but by fires the soul has sewn.