Degen

Beneath soft strokes, her silence speaks,  
A timeless gaze, where mystery peaks.  
Eyes that hold the weight of years,  
A quiet strength untouched by tears.  

Her shadowed blouse, a sable shroud,  
Frames her spirit, still and proud.  
The canvas breathes her whispered tale,  
Of fleeting youth, both fierce and frail.  

Her auburn locks like autumn's flame,  
Yet still unnamed, she stays the same.  
A portrait carved from light and shade,  
Where time and soul forever stayed.  

In painted depths, the viewer finds,  
A thousand dreams, a thousand minds.  
Her voice is ours, her story untold,  
A life suspended — bold yet cold.