The spine gives way without a fight,
The margins wear a known design;
You trace the shadows in the light
Where younger eyes once read this line.

No sudden turn will take you unawares,
No tragic twist can steal the day;
You climb the same familiar stairs
And know what each voice has to say.

The tea grows cool beside the edge,
The quiet hours gently seep;
A well-loved world, a promised pledge,
To keep you safe before you sleep.