In the morning’s gentle light, they find
A world painted with hues so kind,
Each word a brushstroke on life’s canvas wide,
Crafting joy from where shadows hide.

Poets dream of skies so blue,
Where whispers of happiness pass through,
On the wings of verses, they soar high,
Chasing the sun across the sky.

Beneath the boughs of ancient trees,
They pen down secrets carried by the breeze,
In rhymes and rhythms, hearts do dance,
In the poet’s world, joy finds its chance.

Through the ebb and flow of time’s great sea,
Their pens carve out a symphony,
Of happiness in every line and rhyme,
A timeless treasure, through the sands of time.