In the velvet folds of night,
Where dreams and whispers intertwine,
Lies the tender heart of Wilde,
His love, a timeless design.

Through corridors of passion’s grace,
Words like silk, they softly weave,
In every glance, a lover’s trace,
In every sigh, we dare believe.

Amidst the shadows of his prose,
A beacon of love’s pure embrace,
For every heart that ever knows,
The beauty of his gentle face.

In Wilde’s world, where love prevails,
A symphony of truth and art,
His spirit in each word that sails,
Forever etched upon the heart.