In this quaint nook where silent whispers dwell,
I sit with snacks, a crunching symphony,
A patisserie that melts just like a dream,
And crumbs—a menace to my paper friends.
I pluck a page, the scent of ink and time,
Imagining the worlds beyond these walls,
Yet hesitate; let not my sweet delight
Descend like rain upon the prose I love.
“Don’t spill,” says every book with pages worn,
As if they guard each word with careful grace.
The tales of knights and dragons beckon me,
While popcorn kernels jump and dance in bowls.
Oh, what a balance it requires indeed!
To nibble soft on buttery delight,
Yet wrestle crumbs lest we desecrate
The sacred space where stories find their wings.
So here I munch—the quiet joys abound—
Content to savor snacks and tales entwined;
For every crumb that lands is but a note,
A rhythm in this playful symphony.
With laughter bright as sunlight through the books,
I weave my snack and dreams into one thread;
An ode to all that reading brings us close—
And how to snack without a page in plight!
.jpg)
.jpg)
Y%20ME_%20Gorgina.vendor.png)
.jpg)
