She gathers light in the folds of her dress,
yellow spilling like laughter across the day.
Her eyes—wide, wondering—hold quiet stories,
as if she speaks to flowers and they answer back.
A spiral sun listens above her,
turning slowly, like a secret being remembered.
Even the small creature beside her
seems drawn from the same golden breath of imagination.
Nothing here is still—
the lines drift, the colors hum,
and somewhere between child and dream,
she exists…
not just drawn,
but discovered.
Studioviralsneha 
Leave a comment