In the silent corridors of a mind so bright,
Sylvia’s whispers echo in the night.
Love, a fragile thread she dared to weave,
In the tapestry of dreams she believed.

Her heart, a tempest of longing and despair,
Yearning for a touch, a breath of air.
Through shadows cast by the moon’s embrace,
She sought solace in a lover’s face.

Words like petals, soft and pure,
Crafted with hope, yet insecure.
In letters and verses, her soul did sing,
A symphony of love, in every spring.

Yet beneath the surface of tender prose,
Lurked the storms that a poet knows.
In Sylvia’s heart, a love profound,
Eternal in silence, forever unbound.