He may not write in ink or rhyme,
Yet sings of love in silent time.
A poet true, with hands that show,
The love he gives, though few may know.
His words are deeds, his rhymes are acts,
A love that's spoken, in every fact.
In every touch, a verse is born,
A silent poetry, that forever will form.
No pages turned, no books to read,
Yet his love is written, in every noble deed.
A poet of the heart, with a love so true,
He writes his verse, in all he does for you.
-CORDELIA
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LET'S APPRECIATE MEN
PoetryMen love deeply, yet their love often goes unnoticed. They build, protect, and sacrifice, yet their emotions are rarely spoken of, their beauty rarely praised. While countless books celebrate women, Let's Appreciated Men is a heartfelt tribute to th...
