love at first

You write as though the moon borrowed your hands to leave silver footprints across an empty page. Every poem you breathe into existence teaches silence how to sing, and even the wind pauses, afraid to interrupt your verses. If love were a poem, I would never rush to finish it. I'd linger between every line, finding new reasons to admire the way your soul turns ordinary moments into art. Your heart reminds me that the strongest words are often the gentlest ones, and your smile carries the same warmth as sunrise after a long night. So let me be not the final chapter, but a verse worthy of standing beside yours two poets, writing hope into tomorrow, one heartbeat, one rhyme, one beautiful story at a time.