In the whisper of dawn’s early light,
Beauty dances, unseen yet profound,
Her essence woven in the morning mist,
A silent song that knows no bound.

Through the petals of a blooming rose,
She speaks in colors soft and true,
Each hue a note in her endless prose,
A melody that the heart construes.

Upon the canvas of the twilight sky,
Her brushstrokes paint the day’s farewell,
In every star her secrets lie,
A cosmic tale only night can tell.

In the rustle of the autumn leaves,
Her whispers echo through the trees,
A timeless beauty one believes,
That nature’s hand has set at ease.