In shadows cast by the inkwell's glow,
Unfinished whispers—a tale untold.
Words left unsaid, buried deep within,
A silent echo is where muses begin.
Unwritten verses dance in the pen's embrace.
Yet, hesitant hands, a hesitant grace.
Unheard melodies in the heart's quiet hum,
Lost in the silence, where emotions succumb.
The canvas of time, an unwritten scroll,
Stories are untold, like secrets untold.
In the soul's caverns, where darkness lingers,
Unwritten verses, untouched by fingers.
Muses, elusive, their blessings withheld,
As the inkwell dries, tales remain quelled.
A symphony silenced, a poignant refrain,
Unseen, unheard, in the poet's domain.
