As dusk sinks into the room,Â
the night grows deep and velvety.
A fruity wine aroma drifts in with the evening breeze,Â
softening everything the day has held too tightly.
She rests in the dark,
carrying the untamed spirit of a stray cat.
By day, she keeps her edges hidden.
By night, she stretches freely,
 letting her emotions melt into the red glow around her.
She does not hide inside the night.
She becomes part of it — bold, fluid, and quietly wild.
Her softness is never obedience.
It is the freedom that only belongs to the dark.