In the secrecy of time, a whisper softly sings,
Where shadows dance and the unknown brings.
Eyes, as soft as morning mist, caught in twilight’s embrace,
Invisible to the world, yet filled with grace.

The peony, a masterpiece of nature’s design,
Blooms in secrecy, in delicate intertwine.
Its petals, like silk, woven by tender hands,
Tell of a paradise only the soul understands.

In a world that rushes, blind to fleeting grace,
These eyes, this bloom, remain in a hidden place.
Yet in their silence lies a deeper tune,
An unheard song, an eternal rune.

The eyes, the peony, in the silent night,
A secret that in the hidden laughs bright.
In their silence, deep and pure,
Blooms a beauty that will always endure.