In soft moonlight, where whispers gently weave,
Lies love as pure as morningâs dew-kissed eve.
With quill in hand, he penned sweet lines divine,
Eternal words that cross the sands of time.
His sonnets speak of love so deep, so true,
Emotions raw, yet tender, shining through.
Each verse a testament to hearts entwined,
A mirror of the soul, in prose confined.
Through seasonsâ change and skies both gray and blue,
His love endures, forever fresh and new.
In every line, a spark of passion’s flame,
A legacy that bears his timeless name.
O Shakespeare, bard of love’s enduring art,
Your words still echo in the lover’s heart.
From Stratfordâs lanes to lands both near and far,
Your love remains a guiding, constant star.