In the quiet of the night, I find my muse,
With pen in hand, I let my thoughts diffuse.
Each stroke on paper, a melody so fine,
A dance of words, a rhythm so divine.

The ink flows freely, like a river’s course,
Guided by passion, driven by its force.
Ideas take shape, on this blank canvas vast,
Moments immortalized, memories cast.

Through highs and lows, my pen does glide,
Unveiling secrets, no longer to hide.
Each line a whisper, each stanza a shout,
A journey within, a passage without.

In every word, a piece of my soul,
Writing, to me, is what makes me whole.
A sanctuary, where thoughts can roam free,
The symphony of ink and paper, my eternal decree.