Quill's Dance Of Ink

In chambers of parchment, a quill poised,

Whispers ink, tales of secrets enclosed.

Upon this stage, a scribe's silent voice,

In a scripted waltz, its destiny is composed.

Feathered muse, an arbiter of tales,

Dipping deep into wells of midnight's ink.

A dance commenced as the moonlight pales,

Serifs and loops on parchment link.

Through scrolls of ages, the pen inscribes,

Epics unfurl in a graceful arc.

Silent witness to joy, pain, love's vibes,

A voyage embarked a lyrical spark.

Words take flight, a symphony of quill,

Each stroke etching stories, fervent and still.

Mightier than the sword, yet gentle still,

Ink-stained verses, the heart's subtle thrill.

In clandestine corners, it draws its might,

A poet's ally in the dim candlelight.

A serenade to dreams, in the hush of night,

The pen weaves sonnets, a celestial light.

Quivering, it sketches the poet's devotion,

On vellum canvases, emotions are in motion.

A ballet of prose, an intimate potion,

Ink-born verses, a boundless ocean.

Oh, humble pen, eternal scribe,

Transcending time, where stories abide.

In the script of life, a relentless tide,

Quill's dance endures, with each stroke, revived.