Adorn

Upon the looking‑glass’s quiet gleam,
She threads the silk of morning’s shy embrace,
Each stitch a whisper, each seam a dream,
Adorning flesh with time‑worn grace.

A ribbon of cerulean, soft as tide,
Winds ’round her throat, a humble favour paid,
While amber beads, like sunrise‑kissed pride,
Rest upon her collar, delicately laid.

Her trainers, scuffed yet steadfast, speak of walks
Through cobblestone lanes where lilacs sigh,
And in her jumper, wool of muted talks,
She finds the comfort of a cloud‑soft sky.

Thus dressed, she steps—no gaudy show,
Just quiet adornment, true and kind,
A soul’s own costume, gentle glow,
Where every thread reflects her mind.