Drawn

Drawn

In quiet rooms where shadows play,
A pencil sighs upon the page—
Its graphite whispers, soft and grey,
Engaging thoughts in silent stage.

Each line a breath, each curve a sigh,
A portrait of the unseen mind,
Where fleeting dreams and truths comply,
And restless hopes are intertwined.

From rough‑sketched hills to tender faces,
The hand moves slow, a steady tide,
Capturing moments, time embraces—
The world expressed, yet glorified.

So let the sheet absorb the trace,
Where ink and lead in harmony meet—
A silent song, a tender lace,
Drawn life in every modest beat.