In a realm where tender rhymes repose,
Where words and images gracefully compose,
There resides a poet, moved deep within,
Artfully stirring, surrendering to creativity's din.
He weaves tales of love, sorrow, and delight,
Of yearning dreams and moments bathed in light,
His verses flow like untamed, wild rivers,
Enveloping souls, revealing depths that quiver.
Yet some fail to grasp the delicate thread,
That effortlessly weaves through his words widespread.
They mock his dreams, devoid of worth or grace,
As if his art were futile,...