In eight months' time, a vision blooms, Her laughter lights the darkest rooms; Through fleeting days she softly weaves, A tale of dreams on autumn leaves. Her gaze, a compass, steady and true, Guides hearts through skies of whispered blue; In every hour, her spirit sways, Like moonlit tides that time assays. With fleeting moments stitched with grace, In her, I find a boundless space; For though the months may swiftly part, She leaves her mark upon my heart.