In the quiet of the night, words begin to dance,
Weaving stories of love, of sorrow, and chance.
They whisper secrets to the moon’s gentle glow,
Creating worlds where only poets can go.

Verses flow like rivers, through valleys of time,
Each stanza a mountain, each rhyme a climb.
They sing of dreams that flutter like a dove,
Capturing moments with a poet’s love.

Stanzas paint pictures, vivid and bright,
With hues of dawn and shadows of night.
They’re echoes of hearts, both broken and whole,
Poetry, the language of the soul.

In every line, a whisper, a shout,
A journey within, and sometimes, without.
Poetry’s essence, a timeless art,
Words that embrace the reader’s heart.