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#3

Ode to a Free Spirit

Arlen C. Eztolyn

Mar 26, 2025

176

1 Min Read 168 Words

In the morning dew, where wild herbs grow, 180Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡm77ePV6e91

She dances softly, a gentle glow.

A basket swings in her tender grasp,

Collecting nature’s gifts in a quiet clasp.

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The whispering woods, her truest kin,

A sanctuary where dreams begin.

She pens her heart in ink and rhyme,

Writing love that transcends time.

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In the kitchen, a symphony hums,

The scent of cookies, the warmth that comes.

With a vintage touch, she kneads her art,

Baking joy from the depths of her heart.

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Romance blooms where her spirit roams,

A world of candles, lace, and homes.

She crafts her haven with loving care,

Echoes of the fifties lingering there.

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A homemaker’s charm, yet wild and free,

An old soul wrapped in modernity.

She embodies grace, a timeless muse,

A life of love, she’ll always choose.

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Her heart belongs to both past and now,

With a windswept soul and a heartfelt vow.

A teenage dream, a story untold,

A girl with a spirit worth more than gold.

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Entries

#3 Ode to a Free Spirit

#4 Revised draft

#6 Closing Remarks