In the quiet of the midnight hour,
When stars whisper secrets to the moon,
Love blooms like an eternal flower,
In hearts that dance to a timeless tune.

Atticus, the poet of dreams,
His words weave the fabric of desire,
In verses where love’s golden beams,
Ignite the soul with a burning fire.

Through shadows and light, love persists,
A beacon in the darkest night,
Atticus’ love, a gentle mist,
That turns the wrongs into the right.

In his lines, we find our peace,
A sanctuary from the storm,
Atticus’ love, a sweet release,
In his embrace, our hearts transform.