No sonnet penned, no ballad sung,
Can ease the ache upon my tongue.
Two hearts entwined, for me they beat,
A symphony of love, bittersweet.
One, like the dawn, serene and fair,
The other, dusk, with passion rare.
Each holds a piece I cannot lose,
A poet's heart, he cannot choose.
In silent verse, my love I send,
Hoping somehow, their hearts will mend.
For in this dance, I play no part,
But watch two loves tear me apart.
My words, my art, cannot decide,
Where true affection should reside.
For in their eyes, a mirror bright,
Reflects my soul in endless night.
" the Echoing must Rhyme "
OCTOber 5 , 2025
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 4:45 AM UTC
No sonnet penned, no ballad sung,
Can ease the ache upon my tongue.
Two hearts entwined, for me they beat,
A symphony of love, bittersweet.
One, like the dawn, serene and fair,
The other, dusk, with passion rare.
Each holds a piece I cannot lose,
A poet's heart, he cannot choose.
In silent verse, my love I send,
Hoping somehow, their hearts will mend.
For in this dance, I play no part,
But watch two loves tear me apart.
My words, my art, cannot decide,
Where true affection should reside.
For in their eyes, a mirror bright,
Reflects my soul in endless night.
" the Echoing must Rhyme "
OCTOber 5 , 2025
04:40 PM
2 DOWN 4 to Go
