In the corner, where shadows softly play,
A girl sits, wrapped in the tender sway.
Her books of poetry, life’s sweet lore,
Each word a key to an unseen door.

The sun dips low, its golden rays,
Lighting realms of dreams she knew.
Adventures etched in ink and rhyme,
Stretching far beyond the bounds of time.

She reads of seas that glitter and roar,
Of mountains kissed by clouds, galore.
Her heart leaps with the falcon’s flight,
Her soul finds solace in the starlit night.

A stanza hums of love’s embrace,
Another paints fate’s fleeting trace.
Each poem a bridge, both firm and thin,
From where she’s been to where she’ll begin.

Her eyes alight, a beacon’s flame,
In every story, she carves her name.
Binding her spirit to tales untold,
To truths of fire, to dreams of pure gold.

The books breathe life, they softly sing,
Of daring quests and hope’s gentle spring.
Between the pages, she finds her place,
A realm of wonder, an endless space.

So she reads, as twilight bends,
A journey that neither starts nor ends.
Immersed in poetry and life’s sweet spins,
The girl becomes the story within.

Paul Baldry