The Enchanted Scroll

The Enchanted Scroll

My name written in a place that breathes and waits,

curled inside a scroll that knows my every scar.

Ink remembers what mouths were too afraid to say,

and time bows down when words decide to stay.

The feather dips into a silence full of stars,

each letter stitched with longing and restraint.

Nothing here is rushed or borrowed from the dark,

truth moves slowly, because truth can afford to.

The moon watches, patient as an old friend,

it has seen promises break and mend again.

This scroll does not forgive and it does not forget,

it only tells the story exactly as it lived.

I read until my hands begin to shake,

because some magic is simply being seen.

When the scroll rolls closed, it does not vanish,

it waits for me to be brave enough to return.