In the quiet of the night, it speaks,
Silent pages that hold dreams untold,
Each line a whisper of ancient secrets,
Inked in the heart, forever bold.

The paper dances with shadows of thought,
A canvas for echoes of the mind,
Fleeting moments captured in silence,
Leaving traces of the past behind.

Crisp and white, yet brimming with color,
Stories unfold with every fold,
Weaving tales of joy and sorrow,
In the gentle rustle, truths are told.

As dawn breaks, the paper awakens,
A vessel for dreams, hopes, and fears,
In its fibers, the essence of life,
Whispering softly through the years.