She walks like moonlight on the sea,

A shimmer born of mystery.

Not loud, not bright in burning hue—

But glowing soft, and purely true.

Not made of diamonds, nor of gold,

But stories worn and secrets told.

Her laughter gleams like silver thread,

Through dreams she weaves and fears she’s shed.

In quiet corners, she will shine,

Like candlelight in evening wine.

Her soul reflects what eyes can’t see—

A kind of fierce serenity.

She is not fire, not storm, not flare,

But something rarer, rich and rare.

She doesn't chase the world’s applause—

She simply shines… just because.