I wanted to be a poet

I wanted to be a poet, where the ink flows like a gentle stream, words dancing on the page, each line a whisper of the heart, capturing fleeting moments like fireflies in a jar. I dreamed of rich sunsets, painted in verses, the sweetness of laughter, carried in stanzas, finding beauty in the mundane, echoing the pulse of life. But sometimes, silence speaks louder, and I find solace in the spaces between, for even the quiet holds a story, waiting, always waiting, to be born anew.