Language of Love Poetry Contest
5/23/2026
Sponsor: Ink Empress
A sudden burst of painted glass upon a gray and weathered stone. They do not light within the grass, but cling to secrets known to none. Specks of orange, flecks of blue, a torn and tattered canvas drawn. across the morning's heavy dew, as fragile as the breaking dawn. No artist held a steady brush to form this wild and fleeting art. They came upon the forest hush; painting on the woodlands heart. A living mural on the bark, alive and breathing to the eyes; before they vanish in the dark; a glorious graffiti of butterflies.
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