MARIA

 

Maria, Our Princess in Smoke and Silk

She glides through the courtyard, a vision, a breeze,
In gowns that would make springtime flowers say please.
With colors that shimmer, with fabrics that dance,
She stirs up the air in a spellbinding trance.

Each morning she floats like a dream through the haze,
Bedazzled in jewelry that captures sun’s rays.
Her hair just so, and her perfume a sigh,
Maria, the monarch who won’t even try.

For she is who she is, with no need to impress—
No peacocking here, just effortless finesse.
With Lucy beside her, proud pup on parade,
The two bring a glamor that never will fade.

She once flew through clouds with the wind in her hand,
A pilot, a captain, with sky at command.
Some say she still hovers just inches above,
With wings made of silk, and a life lived with love.

But don’t let the dazzle or elegance blind—
Her laughter is sharp, her wit quick and kind.
She fits in our din with a twinkle and grin,
Though her grace is a whisper the angels lean in.

We joke as we smoke, as the gossip takes flight—
“Does she dream of romance on some starlit night?”
But Maria just smiles, like a woman who knows
That mystery lingers where true beauty glows.

So here’s to our princess, refined and unshaken,
By trends never swayed, by pretense forsaken.
The crown that she wears is of class and of style—
And we’re better just basking in her every smile.