The Wind in Her Hair

The wind in her hair,

The clouds in her eyes,

The sun beamed down on her,

What a beautiful sight to see.

She was free,

Nothing to hold her back,

Her dress blowing against her,

Her slender body showed shape.

Her smile was captivating,

She just stood there,

Allowing her space,

And freedom.

With every step, she felt alive,

The world her playground, her spirit would thrive.

No bounds, no limits, just the open sky,

Her laughter echoed, as she danced by.

The breeze whispered secrets, as she twirled with glee,

Her hair a wild tangle, her eyes wild and free.

She was a vision, a work of art,

A masterpiece, straight from the heart.

In her own world, she found her peace,

A sense of belonging, her soul would release.

No chains to bind her, no walls to confine,

Just the open road, and her heart's design.

She stood tall, with her feet on the ground,

Her spirit soaring, without a sound.

The wind in her hair, the sun on her face,

A sense of freedom, a sense of her own space.

With every breath, she felt more alive,

Her heart beating stronger, her soul would thrive.

She was untamed, unbridled, and free,

A force of nature, wild and carefree.

Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj

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