In the quiet embrace of a blank page’s grace,
There is an aroma that dances and plays,
Where the scent of fresh ink paints a delicate maze,
A symphony of words in a rhythmic haze.

With the whisper of a pen against the fresh sheet,
A feeling of belongingness, pure and sweet,
Each stroke and curve, a language to meet,
In the realm of creation, where worlds greet.

Structured visual of thoughts entwined,
Ink flows freely, a river of the mind,
Through valleys of imagination, it winds,
In this trance incomparable, we find.

So let us be captivated by this magical dance,
Where words and feelings entangle and enhance,
In the poetry of life, we take a stance
In the beauty of creation, we find our expanse.