In the gallery’s gentle embrace,
Where art and dreams align,
She stands, a rare beauty,
With eyes that brightly shine.
Green and blue, sea and sky,
In her gaze they blend,
Immersed in Russian tales,
Where Dostoevsky’s pens descend.
Her hair, autumn brown,
Cascades soft and free,
One year her senior,
A beacon bright to me.
In brush strokes and deep words,
Her heart finds delight,
A lover of realism,
In art and prose takes flight.
She captures every glance,
A masterpiece in frame,
With every smile, every laugh,
My heart she gently claims.
In whispers of the night,
Her name I softly call,
For in her presence,
I’ve found my greatest love of all.