A Forgotten Pass

In the quiet corner, dust dances in light,

my library card folded, a ghost of the bright.

This faded ink whispers stories untold,

a key to my youth, wrapped in plastic and gold.

Rummaging through papers, I find it again,

like a relic of times when words weren’t a trend.

So much promise trapped in that small piece of chance,

a ticket to worlds where I once learned to dance.

Do you remember the thrill of pages unfurling,

as ink dipped in dreams leaves your heart twirling?

Each title, each author, a path laid with care—

this card still speaks softly, reminds me I dare.