Muse of Dusk

She walks where day and night entwine, A whispered breeze through aging pine, With eyes that hold the fading light, And secrets born from end of night. A veil of roses, oud, and rain, A kiss of warmth, a touch of pain— She lingers soft on lover’s skin, Like velvet shadows tucked within. No dawn can cage her amber soul, No noon can grasp her scent’s control; For in that hush where silence sighs, She dances under bruising skies. A bloom that wilts, yet still ignites, A poem etched in twilight’s rites— She is the hush before the stars, The scent of dusk in crystal jars.