A familiar creak from the floorboards below,
Let out a comforting echo.
Light is beaming through the dusty air,
As the books and shelves show their wear and tear.To my sides, shelves run parallel.
How far they go? I cannot tell.
So I walk along, I don’t touch a book,
I’m afraid of what I’ll find if I lookAn extravagant desk comes into view,
With papers and pens and mahogany hues.
I do not dare to touch the past,
Oh how I hate how some memories last.I steel myself and take a seat,
I grab a pen and I grab a sheet.
No, what is written I cannot erase,
But with this pen, a new future I face.The pen pricks the paper, the parchment is pained,
If nothing is ventured, then nothing is gained.
And in that moment, what did I write?
Well watch and see as a new day alights.
