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In this April, life is reborn,
with whispers of warm air,
the flowers awake, the shadow nests,
and the sun, like an embrace, feels us.
I wish my letters, in dance, to shine,
fireflies in the silent night,
that in each word dreams may splinter,
weaving stories in the skin of the ballad.
Month of new dawn,
where time is a fresh canvas,
painting the horizon, I invite you to believe,
that the hidden becomes a mirror.
Metrics kept, warmth in every rhyme,
in the eyes that look with fervent longing,
the magic of verse, the essence that animates us,
with each stanza, our latent worlds.