Statue Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

In the quiet corner of the garden,
where wildflowers dare to whisper,
and the sun spills golden secrets upon the earth,
there she stands, chiseled from dreams,
her statue, an echo of a timeless grace,
a testament to beauty that words struggle to capture.

Her hair flows like cascading rivers,
each strand a silken thread of twilight,
caught in a golden breeze,
the essence of a thousand sunsets,
dancing softly, as if to beckon,
to draw the heart closer,
to unravel the mysteries of her gaze.

Her face, a mosaic of light and shadow,
with cheeks kissed by a gentle dawn,
lips, a soft curve of promise,
where smiles bloom like spring flowers,
and in the arch of her brow,
the world finds its quiet balance,
the weight of existence held lightly,
between the heartbeats of time.

Her eyes, oh, those deep pools of wonder,
are galaxies wrapped in the velvet of night,
they hold the laughter of stars,
the soft sighs of the moon,
and in their depths, a thousand tales unfurl,
of love, of loss, of dreams yet to be born,
each glance a whisper, a secret shared
with the winds that wander through the ages.

Her body, a symphony of curves and lines,
each contour sculpted by the hands of fate,
the gentle rise of a shoulder,
the graceful fall of a waist,
a fluidity that speaks of the ocean's embrace,
of waves that kiss the shore with longing,
of tides that ebb and flow in the dance of life.

Yet, it is not just flesh and form,
but the spirit that breathes within the stone,
a heartbeat echoing in the silence,
a voice that sings through the stillness,
"Here I am, a reflection of your dreams,
a reminder of the beauty that resides
not just in the marble, but in the pulse of the world."

Her statue, a guardian of moments,
stands watch over the laughter of children,
the whispered vows beneath the oak,
the tears shed in the wake of goodbyes,
and in her presence, life unfolds—
a tapestry woven with threads of joy and sorrow,
each strand imbued with her luminous essence.

So let her stand, eternally,
in the embrace of the sun and the moon,
a beacon of beauty, a muse in silence,
for in her stillness, she speaks volumes,
reminding us that beauty is not merely seen,
but felt, deep within the chambers of the heart,
a dance of light that never fades,
a statue, yes, but more—a living dream,
captured in the embrace of eternity.