Rhyme

Ode to Rhyme

In quiet rooms where ink takes flight,
We seek the favour of a matching sound,
A neighbour’s whisper, soft and light,
That turns a thought to hallowed ground.

Each couplet sighs in gentle labour,
Two hearts that beat in measured time,
Their vowels waltz, their consonants labour,
A dance that turns the ordinary sublime.

From Shakespeare’s stage to modern verse,
Rhyme weaves a tapestry, bright and keen,
A silver thread that ties the universe,
In every stanza, bright, unseen.

So let us cherish this sweet art,
Where sound and sense in harmony part,
For in the rhyme we find our truest part—
A timeless echo, a British heart.