The book, engulfed in a myriad of colours
Blue, dark as the deepest abyss of the ocean
Silver, fit for a princess to wear
Pictures, exquisite as the first bud of spring

This magical land lies forgotten
In a dismal, desolate haze
Waiting to be loved again

A girl once treasured this book
But she drifted away from it,
Just as wood floats on the ocean,
away from the shore

Once worth a thousand gold coins
Now lost in a place of which no one knows
But still there, in a dismal desolate haze
Waiting to be loved again



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