Endangered Species

The bell denotes my presence and I breathe in all the must, The old man sits amidst his books himself covered in dust. I glance around - Without a sound - What will my hunting eyes expound? My favourite place to visit full of wonders and old writing, Such stories do they tell to me, before you even crack the binding. A missing page - Gold words engraved - Intriguing, so I must engage. I find the little hidey hole, past modern paperbacks, An antique chair to sit and stare at what today’s world lacks. A sense of style - In rustic guile - Enchants even the smallest child. I run my hand along the row of books with golden lettering, Experiencing all their worth, regretting what we’re forgetting. They are our last - Ancestral past - They speak to us in volumes, vast. They call to us from history and they ask us to remember, Before they too become extinct, they are a dying ember. Our legacy - Technology - Where knowledge waits on scratched CDs.