By Alia Azwa
She existed as a poem,
He chose to quietly peruse,
He, himself, a verse,
Unnoticed, in her poetic hues.
Together, they composed a sonnet,
Deemed unfinished by decree,
Destined to remain unspoken,
A tale no one could wholly see.
Yet, in their silent symphony,
Unfinished verses intertwine,
A masterpiece of love and longing,
In the unwritten lines, they find.
Hozzászólások