Books on shelves lining walls, tucked in nooks and filling stalls.
One day they'll be gone, so we'll all be reading from our phones.
I miss the paper, miss the smell, of books and ink and words which tell
stories, poems, and news as well. I fear they'll soon be gone.
I love the feel of turning pages, traveling back through distant ages,
reading wise words from the sages. And all things written down.
Knowledge came in stages, and I fear that without pages
It will all be subject to changes. Things of import, ought be writ in stone....
