In the quiet corners of a dusty library,
Where shadows dance with the fading light,
Ancient stories whisper to the curious soul,
Weaving dreams through the fabric of night.

The scent of parchment, rich with time,
Holds secrets penned by hands long gone,
Words that echo through the silent halls,
A legacy of voices, softly drawn.

Through tattered spines and golden ink,
A world unfurls in gentle prose,
Each page a portal to lands unknown,
Where imagination endlessly flows.

With every turn, a new adventure calls,
A tapestry of tales both old and new,
In literature’s embrace, we find our place,
A timeless journey for the heart to pursue.