In the quiet of the moonlit night,
Her hair dances like shadows in flight,
Waves of silk in the gentle breeze,
Whispering secrets among the trees.

Golden strands kissed by the dawn,
A tapestry woven, never torn,
Each lock a story, a silent song,
Where dreams and reality belong.

In the sun’s embrace, it glows anew,
A river of light, a morning dew,
Cascading down with graceful ease,
A crown of beauty that aims to please.

Through storms and calm, it stands so true,
A testament of strength that grew,
In every hue, in every shade,
The language of hair, a tale conveyed.