write a rough draft of a poem.
In the misty morning's wake, I rise
With whispers of dreams still in my eyes
A canvas in front, untouched, pristine
A world of words, waiting to convene
I hold my pen, ink-stained and true
A conduit for thoughts, both old and new
Like an orchestra, each word must play
In harmony, as emotions sway
The page absorbs my deepest fears
And cradles my hopes, amidst the tears
A sacred space where truth resides
Where secrets hide, and dreams take flights
Each stroke of ink, a letter born
A story told, a heart forlorn
With every word, a universe unfolds
Where hearts can break or mend, in stories told
The lines, they dance and intertwine
Like vines of ivy, so soft, divine
They echo the beauty of this earth
And the depth of human pain and worth
Through metaphors and similes, new worlds emerge
Taking me to places, where my soul can surge
With rhythm and rhyme, they find their way
Into hearts and minds, where they long to stay
So, let me sketch upon this page
The moments that cause my spirit to engage
For poetry, a mirror to the soul
Where truest feelings find their goal
In this rough draft, imperfect, untamed
Lies the essence of us, unnamed
A glimpse into the depths of the unknown
Where thoughts and dreams are finally shown