Within the gears where silent hours sleep,
She stirs the dusk with iridescent wing;
Through brassbound petals wound in secrets deep,
She sips the nectar only clockworks bring.

Her shimmering flight unthreads the woven air,
A whisper born of starlit copper light;
She gathers time like pollen, faint and rare,
And scatters dawn across the turning night.

No mortal eye has ever truly seen
The music held within her trembling grace;
She keeps the bloom where lost tomorrows lean,
A guardian soft as breath on clockwork lace.

And though her song is hushed, its truth rings clear,
The heart of time still beats because she’s near.

~ Morgan C. Morgan
Writer of light, shadow, and the stories between.

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