A Sonnet unto Thy Name ...

In the quiet realms of parchment and ink, 

my quill hath often danced upon 

the canvas of emotions, 

weaving tales of love and yearning. 

The girl I hold in the highest echelon 

of my heart, she questioned 

what I hath inscribed for her. 

A truth unbeknownst to her – 

my quill hath been idle, 

yet my verses silently echoed 

the cadence of her name.

In the chronicles of my prose, 

a clandestine affection, 

a love unspoken, hath weaved 

its silken thread throughout the pages. 

No name uttered, 

nor explicit incident detailed, 

yet every word, a whisper to her silence, 

an ode to her absence. 

Forsooth, these lines, 

an intimate ballet of ink, 

are a testament to a heart 

that beats solely for her.

And now, as the quill unfurls once more, 

let this proclamation be the opus, 

the lyrical disclosure – 

every word, every pause, 

every silence, a sonnet 

dedicated unto her, 

the silent muse of my unwritten verses.