In shadows cast by candlelight’s soft glow,
The pages whisper secrets, old and wise,
Each word a key to realms where dreams may flow,
Through ink and time, where boundless magic lies.

The scent of parchment, aged and deeply worn,
Holds echoes of the hands that turned each leaf,
A symphony of voices, tales reborn,
In libraries, we find both joy and grief.

Beneath the weight of countless written lore,
We wander through the corridors of thought,
In every line, new worlds for us explore,
By literature’s hand, forever caught.

So let us cherish every ancient tome,
For in their depths, our spirits find a home,
With every story, every poet’s rhyme,
We travel through the endless seas of time.