Layla Poem by Sumita Jetley

In a room where time whispers and halts,
Where ivy and books are keepers of secrets,
Dwells a sage, a seeker of the unseen paths,
His thoughts, a bridge 'twixt old lore and new quests.

In the heart of a bustling, sleepless city,
In a nook, tranquil, where shadows play,
Lies a world within a world, a hidden sanctity,
Where a man of wisdom pens the night away.

Amidst the hum of the mundane, the ordinary,
A story unfolds, a tapestry, rich and vast,
Of Layla, a spirit, both vivid and contrary,
Her imagination a sail, her dreams the mast.

Through streets she wanders, eyes alight,
Each tree, a dancer; each star, a guiding light,
In mundane echoes, she finds songs unsung,
In simple moments, deep truths are sprung.

From her dreams, a river of moonbeam flows,
To gardens unseen, where the heart knows,
Its whispers lead her to lands afar,
Where stories are written in the sand, under the stars.

Each soul she meets, a story untold,
In their eyes, the fire; in their words, the gold,
Their tales weave into her journey, her quest,
In their smiles and tears, her heart finds rest.

Back in his study, the professor writes,
Of Layla's wanderings, her inner fights,
Her visions, a mirror to our own hidden yearnings,
Her journey, a map of our own soul's turnings.

In the stillness of his room, truths are spun,
Of how, in imagination, our worlds are one,
How in the heart of the city's endless might,
Lies a quiet space, for the soul's flight.