In whispers of the morning light,
Poetry dances on the breeze,
A tapestry woven, soft and bright,
With words that drift like autumn leaves.

Each line a gentle brush of fate,
A symphony of thoughts untold,
In silence, it begins to create,
A realm where dreams and truths unfold.

The heartbeats of the silent verse,
Echo through the soul’s deep core,
In every stanza, we immerse,
Finding worlds we’ve yet to explore.

Poetry, the mirror of the heart,
Reflecting fears and hopes anew,
In every word, a work of art,
A timeless dance, forever true.