Like any other Saturday, she picks up a book
Lies on the couch, starts reading her favourite lines
With her adventure-ready position
Gazillion particles await her discovery

In between familiar blocks of text
She traces white spaces with her fingers
To capture a long-lost story in the universe
Her heart always feared to return to

Its sturdy spine stands still between her fingers
Yesterday’s traces of coffee and tears remain
The folded edges hastily placed to remember
As a stray bookmark falls down like a sparrow

Treading its story chapter by chapter
There's a line she keeps coming back to
“Hope,” it said, “can bring you places”
She tucks it in her pocket full of favourite lines

She thinks of outside
Where the withering whispers no longer matter
Inked and paper-bound, she begins to make sense of
A romantic story between a girl and her book

The pages calmly gaze at her
As she finds herself at the last fold — a blank canvass
With a smile, she takes a quill and braces herself
To finish the —