In the quiet corners of a well-loved book,We find the whispers of distant lands,Each page a portal to places unseen,A tapestry woven with gentle hands.Through the dance of ink on paper’s skin,Imagination blooms, wild and free,Words like seeds take root within,Nurturing minds with curiosity.In stories told and tales retold,Empathy grows, understanding deepens,We walk in shoes of kings and paupers,Learning the language of hearts and seasons.Ode to the books that shape our soul,Guiding us through the darkness and light,Reading is a compass, a guiding star,Unfolding the world in endless delight.