Dust on the bookshelf

On a shelf, the dust now lies,
A silent witness to my tired eyes.
My books, my love, my trusted friends,
Neglected now, as a busy life extends.

The days fly by in a hurried race,
No time to lose myself in their space.
A captive to the clock, to stress and strife,
Lost in the anxious maze of modern life.

But this is not a final goodbye,
Just a pause beneath a clouded sky.
Soon, I'll return, I make this plea,
To the words that wait so patiently.

 The dust will vanish, and the pages turn,
With every lesson I have yet to learn.
And on that shelf, a future I see,
With new books waiting just for me.