The heavens are letting clouds fall,
in the dull pitter patter that drawls.
Underneath this sky, a girl of young age
flips a wet page.
She sits cozily beneath a tree’s leaves,
by a pattern the bark had weaved.

Book in hand, she ventures,
exploring all that the words had lent her.
Only her hair disturbed by the wind,
she dug her nose further, into her friend.

In between the lines she finds solace,
in the spaces, anything but emptiness.
Printed black and white, for her,
holds all of the world’s color,
little letters strung together dance in harmony,
forming images, singing melodies,
letting her see more of the world than she ever could before,
like princesses who save themselves and so much more.

The only thing she despises are the last words,
when she has to depart from her world,
torn away from her life, her soul, her friends,
she abhors The End.


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