In the realm of dreams, ‘neath the silvered moon’s glow,
Lies the Snow Moon Flower, where the starlit winds blow.
Her petals unfurl in the moon’s tender light,
A dance of pure grace in the stillness of night.

Clad in the finest of sarees so white,
She whispers of beauty in the soft, velvet night.
Each fold of her garment, a story untold,
Woven with magic, in moonbeams and gold.

Her form, like a sculpture, in moonlight does bask,
A silhouette of wonder, no artist could mask.
The beauty of woman, in nature’s embrace,
Captured in stillness, with effortless grace.

The Snow Moon Flower, in boudoir of dreams,
Reflects all the splendor that moonlight redeems.
Her essence a symbol, a delicate sight,
Of purity, wonder, in soft lunar light.

In gardens ethereal, where night shadows play,
She blooms in the quiet, where dreamers might stray.
The Snow Moon Flower, in her silent repose,
A symbol of beauty, where dreamland bestows.

In her presence, the night finds a comforting peace,
As if time and its burdens, for a moment, cease.
In the heart of the night, under star’s tender power,
Rests the eternal beauty of the Snow Moon Flower.