Sisters by the Fire Beneath the moon’s silver gaze, We gather close, wrapped in warmth, The fire painting our faces in gold. Our voices rise in quiet laughter, our hearts speak in silence, Sisterhood needs no words. The flames crackle like stories of old, whispers of mothers, of grandmothers, woven through the smoke that lifts to the stars. On these nights, the world feels whole, and the bond between us stronger than the mountains, than the rivers, than time itself. Oh, how precious the firelight— but more, the glow within us, that will never fade. 🎨 Serin Alar