In the quiet whisper of the morning light,
Her words linger in the air, soft and bright.
A voice that danced through shadowed halls,
Now rests where silence gently calls.

The ink that flowed from heart to page,
Captured worlds beyond her age.
Though time has stilled her vibrant pen,
Her spirit breathes in every glen.

The echoes of her sonnets ring,
In every breeze, in every spring.
A legacy of grace and fire,
Her verses lift us ever higher.

Though death has claimed her mortal shell,
Her essence weaves a timeless spell.
In every heart that dares to feel,
Her poetry forever real.