His silent passion

In the quiet corners of his dreaming heart,
A youthful soul admires from afar,
Her grace, a painting only he can see,
So close in thought, yet distant as a star.
She moves with wisdom, years upon her brow,
A learned strength he longs to understand,
He watches, silent, bound by tender vow,
A wave upon the shore, a grain of sand.
In silent rooms, he crafts a thousand lines,
Each word a whisper, testament of care,
Yet time's vast ocean draws unyielding lines,
Between a wistful sigh and airy prayer.
Forbidden feelings rest upon his tongue,
Unspoken dreams, like shadows at the dusk,
A gentle yearning, never to be sung,
A sweetness wrapped in sorrow's fragile husk.
Yet still he dreams, beneath the moon's soft glow,
A secret world where love is not restrained,
In heart's broad chamber, safe from light's cruel show,
His silent passion, pure and uncontained.
So let the flowers bloom within his chest,
For love, though silent, grants him sacred rest.

30.09.25