
Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
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Upon the dawn of gentlest hue,
A child stood clothed in morningâs dew â
His eyes, two stars in heavenâs dome,
Where purity and wonder roam.
His smile â a whisper soft and clear,
That calms the storm and warms the sphere;
No guile, no shadow knows his face,
For innocence is his sole grace.
Beside him, she â a queen of calm,
Whose gaze bestows the world with balm.
Her beauty, not of fleeting kind,
But born of soul, of heart refined.
Her hair a silver autumnâs breeze,
Her voice â the hush of dreaming seas.
The years, like gentle artists, trace
A noble wisdom on her face.
Together stand â as dawn and day,
Where love and time in balance stay.
The child â the bloom, the mother â root,
Their bond divine, their spirits mute.
O sacred scene, so pure, so deep,
The heavens pause, the angels weep;
For in this simple, fleeting art â
God placed His peace in human heart.



