The rolls and rolls of paper
Bind and flow with words inspired.
The quill runs itself smoothly on the dusty paper,
As it gushes knowledge and inspiration for people to ponder.
The evening sun slowly sets,
Painting daubs of orange and yellow clouds in the darkening sky.
A silent rustle of the leaves in the trees,
As they shift with the warm, blowing wind.
The movement of lips is ever so soft,
Whispering the words - eyes - scrolling down the page.
The ceiling fan slowly rotates,
Shifting and swirling the glowing dust specs against the sun,
As they slowly settle on the drying ink of the fading scrolls.
The bamboo curtains gently click as they move along with the wind.
The cracks between the poles reveal the purple and blue scenery - now almost black.
The lips form into a circular 'o' and puff out the candle.
A swirling string of gray smoke contrasts with the fiery pink sun,
Embracing the night like the flapping wings of an owl in flight.