At the quiet close of every day,
she is just a woman, finding her way.
Not always certain, not always sure,
a tender heart that learns to endure.

She doubts her beauty, questions her worth,
yet carries the weight of love on this earth.
She overthinks, but still she tries,
chasing her dreams beneath heavy skies.

She works with hands both weary and strong,
finding her rhythm, her place, her song.
She laughs at the little things, dances with light,
smiling at strangers, softening night.

She knows she is flawed, she stumbles, she bends,
but her heart—unyielding—forever mends.
For in her chest, love fiercely stays,
burning bright, in countless ways.

At the end of the day, she is more than enough,
fragile and tender, but beautifully tough.

Copyright © Wynter Rayne 2025. All Rights Reserved.