Quill, Heart and Beauty....

In the profound solitude, I trace my quill,

Upon the canvas of my soul, an ink I spill,

The ink of musings, thoughts that ever soar,

To realms where beauty dwells, forevermore.

 

I see the robin's bosom, with feathers bright,

As it takes a flight at first morning light,

The quill in hand, my heart as a soaring bird,

I capture nature's poetry heard or unheard.

 

Each dew-kissed petal in the garden's bed,

A fragrant poem, by morning's light, is spread,

The quill, a wand to conjure a fragrant bloom,

In verses, nature's secrets resume.

 

The whispering trees, a symphony of leaves,

A language in the wind, each moment weaves,

The quill's precision, like a lark in flight,

Tracing the songs of nature, pure and bright.

 

The babbling brook, a never-ending song,

As it winds its way, a stream both swift and strong,

The quill, my instrument to capture sound,

In inky notes, its watery tale is bound.

 

The aged oak, with wisdom etched in bark,

A sentinel in nature's sacred park,

The quill, my guide to delve into an ancient lore,

Recording history in each stroke I pour.

 

The laughter of a child, a joy untamed,

Innocence and wonder, yet unnamed,

The quill, my mirror to the pure delight,

I capture youth's essence in my write.

 

I find in life's minutiae, hidden gold,

A tapestry of stories to be told,

Quill, my heart, and beauty, they unite,

To paint a vivid world, both day and night.

 

In words and verse, we etch our soul's refrain,

To leave a legacy that will remain,

A testament to beauty and art,

In quill and heart, we find our world and our part.