She sits where ocean kisses land, A queen enthroned in golden sand, Her silhouette, a sovereign grace, Soft wine glass resting near her face. The sky blushes in crimson hue, As day retreats in shades of blue, But she remains, serene and still, The hush of waves bends to her will. Her skin, a canvas rich and deep, As if the dusk were hers to keep— Flawless, dark, and boldly bare, Lit by the fire that lingers there. She lifts her glass, a ruby gleam, Reflecting dreams within a dream, The sun, in parting, casts its spell, And deepens what it loves so well. A photo caught the moment’s flame, Yet couldn’t quite pronounce her name— For light had kissed her even more, And darkened what was dark before. But in that shade, no loss was found, Just deeper tones of sacred ground— A woman formed of dusk and flame, Too vast, too rich to fit a frame. Written by: The Magician 🪄 🎩