A poem i wrote last night. Bohemian Dream.

Bohemian Dream

In rooms where candle shadows gleam,

She softly lives a bohemian dream.

With lace by windows, wildflowers tied,

And moonlit tea cups by her side.

She walks through mornings slow and gold,

Wrapped in velvet, lace, and old.

With lavender hanging from weathered beams,

And sleepy sunlight full of dreams.

Her spirit dances, loose and free,

Like roses climbing toward the sea.

A little wild, a little wise,

With stardust sleeping in her eyes.

She finds her majick not in grand display,

But in quiet moments of the day.

In turning pages, herbs, and rain,

In healing softly after pain.

She lights the candles one by one,

Like tiny stars instead of sun.

And whispers gently to the night,

Until her weary heart feels light.

No palace walls. No silver throne.

She makes her beauty from her home.

From books and flowers, tea and thread,

And all the loving words unsaid.

This is the life her spirit chose…

Soft music, moonlight, dried wild rose.

A world of comfort she designed,

For restless heart and wandering mind.

And though the world may rush and scream,

She stays within her bohemian dream.

— Darklady