In quiet chambers of her mind, she dwelt,
Where whispered winds of silence gently spoke,
And in those shadows, Death’s presence she felt,
A ghostly dance, a cloak, a gentle cloak.

Through fields of amber, under skies so vast,
She wandered softly with a thoughtful gaze,
Each step a dialogue with shadows cast,
In her secluded world, she spent her days.

The brittle leaves beneath her feet would sigh,
As if to echo secrets of the night,
With every fleeting moment passing by,
Death’s soft embrace was never far from sight.

Yet in this dance, she found a tender grace,
A muse that wove her thoughts in poet’s thread,
In life’s embrace, she found a sacred space,
Where Death was but a friend, not one to dread.