In inked pages, hearts do softly sing, while emojis blink in neon glare. A quill, a parchment, love's old refrain, still dances in the quiet night air. I draft a sonnet, rhyme and breath entwined, each stanza a sigh, each stanza a vow. The heart, not a pixel, beats unseen, untamed, its pulse a secret only ink can know now. Though emojis flash with hurried, bright delight, the pen remembers the first sunrise, and writes the longing of a soul in sight. A letter's weight is heavier than a swipe, its silence speaks louder than a bright emoji. In handwritten love, we find a truest light.