In morning’s hush, where dewdrops gleam,
There walks the light—Tahira Naseem.
With every step, the lilies sigh,
A softer sun glows in the sky.

She speaks, and silence leans to hear,
The wind itself draws gently near.
Her voice — a thread of woven gold,
A tale of kindness, calm and bold.

The world, it turns, yet pauses still
To trace her path across the hill.
The stars themselves in envy beam,
At dreams borne sweet by Naseem.

Not just a name, but meaning pure,
A soul so bright, serene and sure.
She lifts the dark with just one glance,
And teaches even stones to dance.

A spirit dressed in woven grace,
With courage resting on her face.
She is the verse the skies recite,
The quiet muse of endless light.

So may the heavens always keep
Her name in winds, her dreams in sleep.
For in this world, so vast, extreme—
There’s only one Tahira Naseem.

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