In the quiet of a dusty library hall,
Shelved stories whisper tales of old,
Bound by time, yet free to call
The curious minds, the seekers bold.
Beneath the lamp’s warm golden glow,
Characters dance in ink and rhyme,
Through every word, they live and grow,
Transcending the boundaries of time.
Each page a portal, each line a guide,
To worlds unseen, both far and near,
Where dreams and truths reside side by side,
In whispered prose that we hold dear.
So let us wander, pen in hand,
Through realms of thought, of lore and light,
For in literature’s embrace we stand,
Where endless stories take their flight.