who am i?

I am the worn spine of a loved story with notes so hurriedly crammed into its writings

I am the moss that grows upon a forgotten building, its windows sealed with the key of time

I am the whispers of light before dawn’s break and the inkling of darkness after the moon’s return

I am the raven that sits atop a branch, hearing the secrets of the scurrying mice

I am the fog that blankets a sleeping city, seemingly invisible yet ubiquitous

I am the lighthouse guarding the troubled sea, its calls lost to the howls of the wind

I am the wax seal of a letter, embossed with the initials of a lover

I am the worn spine of a book who once was loved