Where the ink remains

“Details die with times, and stories change.”

And so…,

She reads, 

The stories

That she knew-

No one could change.

Through the pages,

It stays. 

They don’t shift with times.

And the details,

That stays the same. 

Even when it was written for centuries, 

The ink..,-

It echoes with a constant rhymes.

As she found it so, so, beautiful.

The kind that is…,

Fascinating.

Intoxicating.

And is breathtaking.

For somehow, 

It was the only thing that she had-

She can hold onto. 

Sometimes, she reread the same line.

Just to remember how it felt.

To be heard.

To be seen.

To be understood.

And loved, gently. 

Truely.

Completely.

And easily-

As the fresh breeze after a very

Very long storm. 

And when the real world moves forward,

The stories wait.

Just for her. 

And she feel it,

Deeply- 

In her bones. 

-Laila🤍