As I sit here writing, the pen takes flight,
Dancing on paper, weaving words so light.
In the quiet space where thoughts take wing,
A symphony of phrases, a lyrical spring.

The ink spills tales of the heart's refrain,
Whispers of joy, echoes of pain.
A canvas of emotions, a poet's delight,
In the solitude of words, the soul takes flight.

With each stroke, a journey unfolds,
A tapestry of stories, both new and old.
In the realm of verses, time suspends,
As the pen's magic weaves, the silence bends.

As I sit here writing, the world fades away,
Immersed in the prose, where dreams hold sway.
In the sanctuary of thoughts, a sacred rite,
A poet's pilgrimage in the soft, muted light.

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