In the quiet hush of twilight’s grace,
Where shadows stretch and softly lace,
Whispers of the eternal muse,
In the dance of thoughts, we lose.

The mind’s eye paints a symphony,
Of dreams and words in harmony,
Through veils of night, they gently sway,
In poetry’s embrace, they stay.

A canvas of stars, a sea of ink,
Where hearts and souls begin to think,
Each verse a whisper, soft and true,
A tender touch, a morning dew.

So let the muse within you rise,
And craft your world beneath the skies,
With every line, let feelings bloom,
In poetry’s eternal room.