In the quiet of the night,
When the world is still and calm,
The poet's pen begins to write,
In verse both sweet and strong.
The words flow freely from his heart,
A symphony of sounds and hues,
And as he writes, he plays his part,
In crafting beauty for me and you.
With each line he weaves a tale,
Of love and loss, of joy and pain,
And in his words we find a trail,
That leads us to a higher plane.
For the poet's gift is not just skill,
But a passion that burns within,
And with his words, he has the will,
To touch our hearts and souls within.
So let us honor the poet's art,
And cherish every line he pens,
For in his verse we find a part,
Of the beauty that this world transcends.
About the Creator
Nikki Clam
Bringing unexplored elements to the light!
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Confessions of an Empath
The birds are chirping, and the sun is shining in a cloudless July sky. The vibrancy promises a beautiful day, but the cooing of the Mourning Dove perched on the powerlines seems to be more fitting than the lively songs of the robin flitting through the trees. The melancholic calls of the dove cloak the world in a sadness that hangs like tattered drapes.
By Alyssa Nicole4 days ago in Confessions
Comments (3)
Nice words
The poet's pen begins to write And it wrote 💕
Perfectly Said 💯😉❤️✨💖😊