Always the Poet, Never the poem

 In the shadows of verse, where musings bloom,

Always the poet, weaving words in the gloom.

Yet elusive, the poem, a phantom in flight,

Teasing the heart with its elusive light.

Pen dances on pages, a lyrical trance,

Chasing the echoes of an unspoken romance.

In the dance of metaphors, dreams take flight,

Always the poet, lost in the night.

Rhymes like whispers, a delicate stream,

Yet the elusive poem, a mirage in the dream.

Through the tapestry of lines, emotions flow,

Always the poet, with stories to sow.

The ink spills, a river of untold tales,

Yet the poem remains, veiled in poetic veils.

In the rhythm of stanzas, the poet finds home,

Always the poet, chasing the elusive poem