Still In The Story

 You’ll find her not in center stage,

but scribbled soft along the page.
In half-told truths and almost rhymes,
she dances quiet through borrowed times.

A highlight here, a whisper there,
an echo caught in autumn air.
She’s not the plot, but she still lingers,
this girl drawn in with careful fingers.

Between the lines she makes her home,
in margins wide where few have roamed.
She watches stories rise and fall,
unnamed, untouched, yet feeling all.

No spotlight burns against her skin,
no grand beginnings, no loud ends.
But ink remembers where she stayed-
A soft mark that does not fade.