In whispers soft, the words align,
A dance of thoughts, a poet’s sign.
With ink and quill, emotions blend,
Crafting tales that never end.

The moonlight casts a silver hue,
On verses old and stories new.
Each line a thread, a woven dream,
In poetry, the world does gleam.

Hearts and minds, they intertwine,
Through metaphors, a hidden sign.
The rhythm flows, a gentle stream,
In every word, a silent scream.

So let the ink on paper spill,
And let your soul the silence fill.
For in the realm of poetry,
We find our voice, our destiny.