In the quiet of the night, I hear her whisper soft,
Her words like silk, weaving tales of love and loss.
Beneath the moonâs pale glow, her voice becomes a loft,
A sanctuary for the heart, no matter what the cost.
Sylvia, you speak of love with a pen dipped in sorrow,
Yet in your verses, hope still dares to shine.
Each metaphor a bridge to a brighter tomorrow,
A testament to the strength of a love so divine.
Through the prism of your pain, a rainbow does emerge,
Colors vivid, painting dreams on life’s grey canvas.
Your love, a phoenix, from the ashes it will surge,
Turning every shadow into a luminous stardust.
In every line, your heartbeats echo clear,
A symphony of passion, both tender and fierce.
Sylvia Plath, your love transcends each tear,
A timeless flame, in our hearts it will pierce.