The world unfolds in stanzas soft and grand,
A poet’s eye sees meter in the breeze,
The rain a rhyme, the earth a measured band,
Each leaf a line that whispers through the trees.
The sun ascends, its rhythm warms the land,
A quatrain glows where shadows find their ease,
In every breath, a poem’s pulse is planned,
A muse eternal, boundless as the seas.
The mundane hums with beauty’s hidden art,
A child’s laugh weaves a couplet pure and free,
The night descends, a sonnet’s quiet start,
Through joy and pain, the verse shall ever be.
To poets true, all life’s a sacred frame,
Each moment sings in Christ’s immortal name.