Lost in the Pages

In dusty corners, a notebook lay still,

a sanctuary once filled, now echoes until

dust motes hung heavy in beams of old light,

my stories grew fragile, shadows of night.

Each page turned slowly, nostalgia would weave,

as time slipped through fingers, I couldn't believe.

The joy of a word, a phrase that ignites,

drowned out by the noise, my heart lost its sights.