Stack

Upon the desk a quiet stack,
A tower of dog‑eared books and paper‑back,
Each spine a muted hue of brown and cream,
A humble mound where dreams and thoughts redeem.

In fleeting moments fingers trace the edge,
Feeling the weight of knowledge, softly pledged.
Though modest in its rise, the stack stands true—
A British‑spun reminder: wisdom grows in few.