Dusty pages memories entwined

Dusty pages, memories entwined,

my father’s pen, a name defined.

Skylar—curled softly in his hand,

a choice, a wish, but never to stand.

A name that could shape another life,

slicing through silence, cutting like a knife.

I wonder sometimes what I’d be,

if that name rolled off the tongue of me.

Would the world feel different, each spark of light,

held in a name, a melody’s flight?

Fate slipped by, like shadows that race,

leaving me tracing a hollowed space.