She moves like silence draped in light,
A breath between the day and night.
No need for gold, no voice too loud—
Her grace commands without a crowd.
A lifted chin, a softened gaze,
She weaves her way through quiet praise.
No rushing steps, no urgent claim,
Yet hearts lean in to learn her name.
She is the pause between the notes,
The way a falling feather floats.
Not bound by wealth, nor forged by fame—
But by the way she walks through flame.
Elegance is not a dress,
But how she holds her humbleness.
A stillness deep, a steady thread—
A crown not worn upon the head.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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