Ember of Autumn

In twilight's hush, where shadows softly fall, A fiery spirit sits, beyond them all. Her hair, a wild mane, aflame with red, Echoes the leaves that beneath her tread. The dress, a tapestry of earthy tones, Rustles with secrets, and ancient moans. The corset's lace, a delicate confine, Gives way to curves, that in freedom shine. Her eyes, like lanterns, glowing bright, Illuminate paths, through the dark of night. The forest whispers, a gentle breeze, That stirs the trees, and rustles the leaves. In this still moment, she is free, A queen of autumn, wild and carefree. The world, it seems, is hushed and still, As if to listen, to her heart's deep will. The leaves, they seem, to be her cloak, A mantle of earth, that she wears to invoke. The power of nature, wild and true, Is hers to wield, in all she does anew.