Williamsji Maveli Writes.....

The artist's hand, a moonlit caress,
Shapes marble cold to gentle grace.
A woman's form, in soft distress,
Her beauty born in this hushed space.

Her eyes, like pools reflecting stars,
Hold depths unseen, a whispered lore.
Her lips, a curve where silence jars,
Promise a smile unseen before.

Each line, a song the chisel sings,
Of curves that hold the world's embrace.
A woman's form, on which love clings,
A timeless beauty, etched in place