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In muted hues, she softly dwells,
A dream in every stroke that tells,
Her gaze, a whisper, lost in thought,
A beauty that the canvas caught.
Her hair cascades, like rivers flow,
In gentle waves, they softly glow,
Her face, a poem of tender grace,
A silent sigh in time and space.
The colors wrap her in a light,
A warmth that turns the day to night,
She lingers there, in soft repose,
A melancholy rose that grows.
In every brush, her soul appears,
A portrait painted with quiet tears,
She’s elegance, a fleeting dream,
A timeless dance on life’s soft stream.
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