Whispers of a Shy Melody

In shadows soft, where whispers dwell,

A shy young maiden's heart does swell.

Her tender years have yet to bloom,

A delicate rose in her quiet room.

With voice so sweet, like lark in flight,

She sings her dreams into the night.

Notes cascade, like rivers of gold,

Her melodies, a story untold.

In verse, she finds her solace true,

A poet's heart within her grew.

Her ink spills like a summer rain,

Each word a drop, a gentle refrain.

Like Blake, she sees a world unseen,

Where angels dance in fields of green.

She weaves her metaphors with grace,

A tapestry of love and chase.

In Wordsworth's footsteps, she finds peace,

In nature's arms, her soul's release.

The mountains call, the rivers flow,

She paints their beauty, to us bestow.

Coleridge's dreams, a vivid blend,

In her mind's eye, they never end.

She walks with ghosts on moonlit shores,

And whispers secrets to the moors.

Lord Byron's fire ignites her soul,

Passion's flame, forever whole.

Her heart a tempest, wild and free,

A rebel spirit, untamed and key.

Shelley's spirit, ethereal and bright,

Inspires her to reach for starry heights.

She yearns for love's eternal flame,

A soulmate's touch, a lover's name.

And in the vein of Keats, she longs,

For beauty deep, in life's sweet songs.

Her heart's desire, a love divine,

A dance of souls, a sacred shrine.

So let her sing, let her heart soar,

Through love and longing, forevermore.

For in her voice, a world is born,

A shy young poet, love's sweet thorn.