She blooms where dawn keeps its earliest vows,
A lyric folded in moonlight and the soft gold of memory.
Her pen whispers like petals
Of mornings that stayed and mornings that went,
Her thoughts drink the patient hush of earth’s slow grace.
Then a cat, gentle as first snow,
Steps light across the poem’s edge.
Its gaze does not scorch, but settles.
A beauty, tender, unassuming,
Teaching the world how to feel —
LyrigCats
The girl, the verse, the quiet companion;
A luminous bloom that leaves the world softer for her poem.