In a world of shadows, she silently treads,
A woman adorned in ebony threads.
Her veil conceals a hidden allure,
A mystic enigma, forever pure.
Her presence whispers of haunting grace,
A symphony of sorrow's embrace.
With whispers so soft, like nocturnal sighs,
Her spirit dances beneath starlit skies.
Solitude becomes her faithful friend,
In somber elegance, she does transcend.
Within the depths of her mournful attire,
Reside secrets that ignite the fire.
Melancholy's brush paints her somber art,
A canvas that yearns for a beating heart.
Yet beneath her shroud, emotions ignite,
Whispering whispers in the dead of the night.
In this realm of shadows and somber mystique,
A woman in black, her presence unique.
She gracefully treads, a spectral sight,
A poem of darkness, veiled in the night.