Slipping through oaken doors,
into another world,
Where dust motes dance in sunlight,
and tales lay waiting to be told.
Laying on the faded carpet,
a teetering stack to the right,
Entering a realm of words,
leaving mundane problems outside.
Escaping to a distant land,
of magic, mystery or misadventure,
Or with the turn of a page,
discovering long-forgotten treasure.
Travelling beyond the rush and crush,
behind paper thin walls,
Seated silently still,
While reality stalls.
~Aaradhana N.
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