She stood in a summer morn,
Motionless, after dawn,
Where gentle light painted round,
Shadowed figures on the ground.
Beautiful, her head held high,
Eyes that searched woods and sky.
A picture of grandeurs dwell,
Only its breath broke the spell.
She lingers, my conscious brain,
Amongst, many treasures lain
And upon a summers morn,
I can see her in the dawn.
Beauty grows in fragile plumbs,
Only when the mind succumbs.
I pray your mind be germane,
To treasures, in your domain.
Where lies the beauty of sight,
Also lies the soul of light.