Ariana

In the dance of my pen on paper's stage,
Emotions flow, scripted on each page.
Ink spills forth, a symphony of hue,
Crafting tales both old and new.

Each word a step, in rhythm they sway,
Expressing thoughts that words convey.
From depths within, the ink does rise,
Painting truths beneath the skies.

With every stroke, a story's told,
Of love and loss, of dreams untold.
My pen, a dancer, in graceful flight,
Weaving tales in the still of night.

So let it dance, this pen of mine,
Upon the canvas, a tale divine.
For in its dance, my heart is free,
To write the story meant for me.

My Books:
1. Allegedly Yours (ongoing)

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