As you ponder over the pages and curl them in your imagination
Eared blank sheets are put to sleep with a monotonous lullaby
Already, the lulled words in the mind take a retreat from the view
Eyes do not care to intrude when the pages are arrested between covers
The pen moves further away; the dried ink forms a crust so dense
Where is that fresh ink to dissolve the unintended dullness?
Crisp pages look lethal to the blunt words shouting wrong analogies