In the quiet of the night, their verses hum,
The restless spirit of Sylvia’s plea,
Ted’s shadows cast in the morning sun,
Together, yet apart, in poetic spree.

Their love, a tempest, fierce and wild,
Words like waves crashing on rocky shores,
Sylvia’s anguish, Ted’s stoic stride,
In ink, their tumult forever pours.

A dance of light and dark, they wrote,
Heartbeats echoing in each page,
Sylvia’s cries in the moonlit coat,
Ted’s whispers in the dawn’s cage.

Beyond the grave, their voices linger,
A testament to love and pain,
In every line, their souls’ finger,
Touching the eternal poetic rain.