In the quiet grace of hands that weave,
Threads of life, they gently cleave.
Crafting dreams with silent might,
Their touch brings day to darkest night.

Eyes that sparkle, windows clear,
Reflecting joys, and shedding tears.
They see the world in hues so bright,
Turning shadows into light.

The heart, a drum within our chest,
Beats the rhythm, never rests.
Love and sorrow, it does bind,
With every pulse, true and kind.

And mind, the keeper of our lore,
Imagines realms, and so much more.
Thoughts that wander, far and wide,
In its expanse, dreams collide.