Virginia Hlavsa

Whispers of the quiet morn,
In stillness, a world reborn,
A bird's song, a dewdrop's tear,
Life's tender moments, crystal clear.

Within the garden, secrets hide,
Beneath the rose's thorny pride,
A solitary bee takes flight,
In this sacred, gentle light.

Through narrow windows, I reside,
Where solitude and thoughts collide,
In realms of hushed serenity,
I find my soul's true identity.

Each heartbeat, like a fragile wing,
Carves a path for the soul to sing,
In whispers of the quiet's grace,
I find my sacred resting place.