Not just flesh, these curves that rise, Two moons hung beneath the skies. More than beauty, more than gaze, They weave a tale of countless days.
From buds that whisper in the dark, To suns that guide a mother's ark. They cradle life, a tender nest, Where souls find comfort, love expressed.
They bear the scars of time's rough hand, Yet hold the stories whispered, planned. Stretch marks, like silver threads unwind, Maps of battles fought and kindness kind.
Through laughter's dance and tears that fall, These gentle hills embrace us all. Symbols strong, defying shame, A woman's power, whispered name.
So let us sing of form and grace, Beyond the gaze, beyond the space. For in these moons, a truth resides, The strength within, where beauty hides.
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