Crimson Tapestry

Crimson Tapestry
Within this hidden, velvet room, where shadows softly fall,
A tapestry of crimson blooms, where whispers gently call.
A hidden garden, pulsing deep, where mysteries reside,
The cradle of creation, where secrets gently hide.

Fallopian tubes, like silken thread, through fertile valleys wind,
Ovaries nestled, gems unsaid, where future lives begin.
The cervix, gateway, ever strong, a watchful, knowing door,
Guiding life's precious spark along, with every whispered roar.

And in the chamber, soft and deep, where blood paints moonlit walls,
The uterus, a haven steep, where tiny wonder sprawls.
A canvas stretching, growing wide, to hold a fragile dream,
A symphony, where life inside unfolds in vibrant gleam.

Through changing tides, this sacred space, it cradles, nurtures, grieves,
A wellspring of creation's grace, where hope forever weaves.
A cycle born in primal fire, of moonlit ebb and flow,
This crimson tapestry, a choir, a whisper soft and low.

So let us honor every fold, these secrets held within,
The lifeblood stories yet untold, where strength and beauty spin.
For in this tapestry unfolds, a testament to life,
A universe, where stories hold, in shadows and in strife.