In moonlit night, your strands do dance,
A silken wave, a soft romance.
They whisper secrets, tales untold,
In shades of silver, threads of gold.

Each strand a story, each curl a song,
A testament to where you belong.
They sway and shimmer, free and wild,
A gentle caress, the wind beguiled.

Through storms and sunlight, they remain,
A woven tapestry of joy and pain.
They frame your face, a halo bright,
In darkest hours, a beacon light.

Oh, hair that crowns with beauty rare,
A symbol of the love you bear.
In every strand, a dream unfurled,
The silent poetry of this world.