The veil descends, a slow, soft dance,
Across the face, a hesitant glance.
The sun, it rises, ember-bright,
Emerging from the fading night.
As youth unfolds, a blush appears,
And modesty, it conquers fears.
A tender shyness, newly born,
Then, blossoming, the vibrant morn.
Upon the lips, a whispered plea,
For fear of foes, a secrecy.
The pressed lips move, a fragile art,
A whispered answer to the heart.
The veil descends, a slow, soft grace,
Across the face, in time and space.
Slowly, softly, step by step,
The secrets of the soul, they kept.
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