A petal caught in morning’s hush,
A shadow slips through amber blush.
Each moment framed, a still cascade
Of time’s soft breath in light and shade.
Glass and cloud in brief ballet,
The echo of a step midway.
Art and memory gently align
In pigments warm, in curve and line.
Not just a scene, not just a view
But beauty born, and carried through.
It sings, it glows, it speaks of me
This world you feel, I made it be.
