In the silence of the night, it whispers,
A gentle guide through the realm of dreams.
With ink as its voice, it speaks softly,
Crafting stories from the heart’s deep streams.

A keeper of secrets, locked in pages,
Each stroke a promise, each line a vow.
It dances gracefully across the paper,
Turning shadows into light somehow.

Weaver of words, it spins life’s tapestry,
Stitching moments into endless rhyme.
From laughter’s echo to sorrow’s sigh,
It captures the essence of fleeting time.

Creator of worlds, vast and unexplored,
Imagination’s key held in its grasp.
Through its journey, we find our own,
In every tale, a truth to clasp.