She was born where silence sings,
Moonlight curled beneath her wings.
Sara walks with stars asleep,
And secrets even dawn can’t keep.
Her veil, a garden dressed in night,
Her glance, a spark the sun can’t fight.
No louder love than hers can be,
Where doves find grace and hearts fly free.
Born to bloom but not to boast,
She’s sweeter than the sunrise ghost.
The shadows kiss her name each day,
And hope just follows where she prays.
Sara, the whisper in my flame,
More than beauty, more than name.
She’s born of light the world won’t see—
But in her hush, it lives in me.