In the dim-lit bar of a grand hotel,
She sat alone, a vision to compel.
Her hair, a cascade of sun-kissed gold,
Framed a face, a story to be told.
Her eyes, like pools of deepest blue,
Held a world of unspoken hue.
Her lips, a curve of crimson delight,
Hid secrets veiled from day’s harsh light.
Her dress, a symphony of silken flow,
Embraced her form with graceful glow.
She moved with grace, a feline’s sway,
Her presence stealing every gaze.
Yet, in her eyes, a sadness lay,
A hint of longing, a heart astray.
A woman of substance, lost in thought,
Seeking solace, a moment unsought.
In the hushed murmur of the bar’s embrace,
She found a respite, a tranquil space.
The clinking glasses, the soft jazz tune,
A symphony of solace, a moment’s boon.
With every sip of her ruby red wine,
She shed the weight of the day’s decline.
The world outside, a distant hum,
As she lost herself in the bar’s soft thrall.
A woman alone, yet not forlorn,
In the depths of her heart, a flame was born.
A strength that burned, a spirit bright,
A woman of mystery, bathed in the night’s soft light.
