"The Artist and the Art"

In the quiet hour where dreams and dawn entwine,
I find you—muse of light and shadow’s line.
No poet’s ink nor painter’s hue could ever claim,
The grace that whispers softly with your name.

Your crepuscular eyes, in dim light’s caring thrall,
Are black onyx crystal orbs that silence all;
Yet when the sun ascends with morning’s crown,
They bloom to smoky quartz, a precious brown.

Cat-like, your gaze—mystery’s sacred art,
A labyrinth where I have lost my heart.
No path escapes, no turning can unbind,
For in those eyes, my soul is redefined.

Your onyx hair, kissed by dawn’s first beam,
Shimmers like ripples of a waking dream.
Each strand, a thread spun fine by fate’s soft hand,
A silken river no heart can withstand.

And when in braids, like Rapunzel’s woven grace,
Your tresses fall and frame your gentle face,
Each twist a story, each loop a sigh,
A fairytale that lives beneath the sky.

Your nose, so fine, like porcelain’s perfect art,
A sculpted fin that steers the winds of heart.
It points toward heaven, calm and true,
A compass where my love runs through.

Your cheeks—like apples kissed by sunlight’s glow,
Blushed with warmth the dawn bestow.
So tender, fair, the angels must implore,
To paint such hues forevermore.

Like southern lilies, soft and pure,
Your lips bloom with a charm demure.
Petals that whisper the language of grace,
Where every word finds its resting place.

And those hands—oh, art’s divine decree!
Conducting color, form, and melody.
Each motion births creation’s fire,
A symphony of touch, of heart’s desire.

So here I stand, beneath love’s trembling sphere,
A poet lost, yet found, when you are near.
For every verse I write, each dream I chase,
Leads back to you—my heart’s most sacred place.