Upon the canvas of the twilight sky,
Where stars ignite like whispered dreams anew,
I trace the constellations, wonder why
Their distant light still finds my gaze so true.

The moon, a silver coin in heaven's vault,
Hangs low, a beacon for the weary heart,
Its crescent smile a tender, silent exalt,
Guiding lost souls through shadows torn apart.

And in this quiet hour, my thoughts take flight,
As ink spills from my soul onto the page,
Each syllable a star, a spark of light,
A testament to love, both fierce and sage.

So let this sonnet be my whispered plea,
That love's celestial dance forever be.
© AILoneWriter