In the secrecy of time, a whisper softly sings, Where shadows dance and the unknown brings. Eyes, as soft as morning mist, caught in twilight’s embrace, Invisible to the world, yet filled with grace.

The peony, a masterpiece of nature’s design, Blooms in secrecy, in delicate intertwine. Its petals, like silk, woven by tender hands, Tell of a paradise only the soul understands.

In a world that rushes, blind to fleeting grace, These eyes, this bloom, remain in a hidden place. Yet in their silence lies a deeper tune, An unheard song, an eternal rune.

The eyes, the peony, in the silent night, A secret that in the hidden laughs bright. In their silence, deep and pure, Blooms a beauty that will always endure.