Even now, she draws the eyes— not with the urgency of youth, but with the quiet gravity of memory.
There was a time when love hovered just beyond the reach of reason, and we, reckless with youth, stood always at its edge— ready to wade in, unaware of the undertow.
Now, in the hush of age, we see her not as she is, but as she was— a moment suspended in light, forever poised between desire and grace.
Even now, she draws the eyes— not with the urgency of youth, but with the quiet gravity of memory.
There was a time when love hovered just beyond the reach of reason, and we, reckless with youth, stood always at its edge— ready to wade in, unaware of the undertow.
Now, in the hush of age, we see her not as she is, but as she was— a moment suspended in light, forever poised between desire and grace.