Slumbering Muse

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A maiden sleeps, surrounded by blooms' gentle call. Her dark tresses, like the night, cascade, As petals of pink peonies her form have made. A bluebird's wings, outstretched, a mystic spell, Envelop her, in slumber's secret to dwell. The flowers, in soft hues, a serene repose, Reflecting the peace that her soul disclose. In this still scene, where art and nature blend, A moment's beauty, our spirits can amend. The bird, a symbol of freedom and of flight, Guards her dreams, through the silent night. With every feather, a story is told, Of the mystic bond, between the young and old. In this tableau, where reality and dream entwine, We find solace, in the beauty that's divine.