In whispered echoes of the quill's embrace,
Love's symphony, in ink, finds its place.
Each stroke, a dancer in passion's grace,
In parchment realms, where dreams do chase.
The paper canvas, like a silent sea,
Where love's vessel sails, wild and free.
Each word a wave, a heartfelt decree,
In boundless depths of poetic spree.
Ink, a magician, weaving spells unseen,
Like stars that dance in night's serene.
Each letter, a constellation keen,
In love's celestial, evergreen.
With every stroke, a phoenix rise,
From ashes of doubt, love defies.
In letters scripted, beneath the skies,
Our love's tale, where passion lies.
So let us linger, in this poetic art,
Where love's language finds its start.
In metaphors, where souls depart,
Our love's journey, a work of art.