Amanda Lovelace

Amanda Lovelace..

In the hush of the library stacks, dust motes danced a waltz, sunlight slanted, and a finger traced forgotten tales.

There you were, a whisper in worn paperback prose, ink-stained fingers lingering on the fading rose.

We spoke in hushed tones of forgotten yesterdays. Characters we knew, their love's labyrinthine maze.

You traced a line on my palm—a lifeline, a destiny. A spark ignited—a borrowed infinity.

The bell tolled, the library sighed, our refuge usurped, But the words lingered—a secret verse, forever unfurled.

A stolen glance, a borrowed book, a whispered maybe, a love story was born in the hushed serenity.