Fleeting Ink

I leaf through my journals, each page tells a tale,

where letters once danced, now some words seem to pale.

The loops and the lines, a signature of time,

marking the changes, in rhythm and rhyme.

A scrawl full of hope now flutters and fades,

like memories captured in ink that cascades.

Tracing my growth through the ink’s gentle bend,

my handwriting whispers, evolving to blend.