In the quiet morn, English whispers awake,
Words dance lightly, like leaves in the breeze,
A tapestry of tales, waiting to take,
Listeners on journeys across the seas.

Each letter, a brushstroke on the canvas of time,
Crafting stories of hope, love, and dreams,
In every syllable, a rhythm, a rhyme,
Echoes of laughter in moonlit streams.

The language of poets and dreamers alike,
Carried on winds from ages long past,
Building bridges where souls take flight,
In a world where moments eternally last.

So let your heart be an open page,
Where English writes its tender song,
In every line, let your spirit engage,
Finding the place where you truly belong.