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.
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