In the library of silence, I found different books of mine ,
Chapters flutter through time like whispers on the vine
Here the air is thick with quiet hum of forgotten stories
And weight of untold tales that rings in my ear

As I walk through the aisles ,I pick up a book bound in leather -worn and weather -torn , there volumes holds my past
On opening it , I greeted by the scent of paper old and sweet
And with each pages ,a treasure of days gone by with ink that deeply set , Stories penned with joy and pain , in a binding of regret.....long to they last ..

Those words on the pages which are familiar to me...