In the quiet corners of the mind,
Where whispers of thoughts reside,
The poet’s pen begins its dance,
Painting worlds with every stride.

Through the ink, emotions flow,
Like rivers carving ancient stone,
Each verse a story softly told,
A universe in each phrase grown.

The rhythm beats like a heart alive,
Pulsating with the pulse of time,
Metaphors weave a tapestry bright,
Where dreams and reality entwine.

In the silence between each line,
Echoes of truth and longing sing,
A symphony of the unsaid words,
In poetry, the soul takes wing.