In the silence of the night, it speaks,
A canvas of thoughts, a river of streaks.
With every fold, a story is told,
On paper, dreams and secrets unfold.

Ink dances gracefully on its skin,
Capturing moments, where memories begin.
The whispering paper holds the key,
To worlds unseen, to what could be.

A gentle breeze through the open pane,
Rustles the paper, like a soft refrain.
It holds the echoes of hearts expressed,
And keeps them safe, forever blessed.

So delicate, yet so profound,
In its embrace, solace is found.
The whispering paper, with tales to share,
An eternal friend, always there.