Whispers on the Page

In the silence of a room, so still,

Where sunlight dances on windowsill,

There lies a sheet, pure and white,

Waiting for words to take flight.

With pen in hand, the poet dreams,

Capturing thoughts in flowing streams,

Each stroke upon the page, a story told,

Of love, of loss, of dreams untold.

The paper listens, without a sound,

As emotions and memories are unwound,

Ink spills like tears upon its skin,

Etching tales of joy and sorrow within.

From whispered secrets to battles won,

The paper holds them, one by one,

A canvas for the soul's expression,

A vessel for creative confession.

Though time may fade and memories blur,

The words endure, a lasting allure,

For on this paper, a piece of heart,

Forever preserved, a priceless art.