In the quiet fold of paper’s grace,
Stories lie in delicate embrace.
Pages whisper secrets untold,
In every crease, a tale unfolds.

Ink dances on the surface bright,
Weaving dreams in the pale moonlight.
Words take flight on feathered page,
Crafting worlds in a boundless stage.

The rustle of leaves echoes the sound,
As paper’s voice speaks all around.
A silent symphony in written form,
Where thoughts and dreams forever swarm.

Through time, paper holds its might,
A canvas pure, in black and white.
A keeper of history, of hopes and fears,
A testament that endures the years.