Notebook

In a quiet corners, worn and dear,

A notebook waits, its pages clear.

Its cover’s cracked, its edges frayed,

A vessel where our thoughts are laid.

With every stroke of pen on page,

It captures dreams that softly rage.

In ink, our hopes and fears take flight,

A diary of day and night.

Its lines hold secrets, joys, and pain,

A canvas for the heart’s refrain.

From whispered thoughts to grand designs,

It cradles every word that shines.

Through sleepless nights and waking hours,