In the quiet corners of their minds,
Words danced like fireflies in the night,
Crafting worlds of beauty and pain,
A duet of voices, haunting and bright.
Sylvia’s verses, a mirror of storms,
Whispers of anguish, raw and profound,
Her pen an arrow, piercing the veil,
In every line, her spirit unbound.
Ted’s echoes, the call of the wild,
Nature’s breath in his rugged prose,
A tapestry woven with shadows and light,
His words a river, ceaselessly flows.
Together they forged a legacy of lore,
A dance of shadows, both tender and fierce,
Through the corridors of time, their echoes remain,
In the halls of poetry, forever they pierce.