In the quiet alcove of dusty tomes,
Where whispers of past authors softly roam,
The scent of ink, a fragrant muse,
Guides the heart to paths we choose.

The quill’s dance over parchment bare,
Breathing life into worlds of care,
Each page a portal, a window wide,
To lands where dreams and truths abide.

In shadows cast by candlelight’s glow,
Stories of love, of loss, of woe,
The echoes of voices, old and wise,
In every line, a new sunrise.

Let us wander through these realms so vast,
Where every word weaves spells that last,
Literature’s embrace, a timeless art,
Binding souls, heart to heart.