In crimson lace, she softly glows,
A story of strength her presence shows.
The sunlight dances through the pane,
Yet she outshines its golden rain.
Her attire whispers of passion's hue,
Of hearts unyielding, strong, and true.
A symbol of love, of fire untamed,
Her spirit, wild yet beautifully framed.
The room, antique yet full of grace,
Fades behind her radiant face.
Each corner bends to her command,
A queen within her crimson land.
Her silence speaks, her gaze ignites,
The depths of beauty, boundless heights.
In every thread, a tale unfolds,
Of courage bright and dreams untold.
Oh, crimson muse, in you we see,
The art of life, bold and free.
A beacon strong, a glowing flame,
Forever etched, a timeless name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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