Lithe

Lithe as willow boughs that sway,
Graceful limbs in twilight play,
Silken motion, soft and low,
A ripple through the evening’s glow.

Nimble as a cat’s swift tread,
Footsteps light where shadows spread,
Each supple curve a quiet art,
A breath of wind within the heart.

In every curve, a quiet song,
Where strength and gentleness belong,
The world feels brighter, clear, and fleet—
All hued in shades of lithe defeat.