Silent gaze, upon a form divine.
Beauty frozen, in a grayscale shrine.
Softly curved, in feline pose,
Skin a gentle gray, in photographic repose.
Words, lost in the beauty found,
of curves and lines, that silently resound.
People say California is where dreams come true, but looking at you, I get the feeling a dream escaped from some old star's black and white film and materialized right here.