To a Scrap Book

Library ~ daytime, empty, shelves are stacked book for every reason, season, nothing lacks waiting for the internet, it's Oh so-o-o fast and my mind might diminish, with the facts! Speed one ~ and even reading, can't sit back I'm focused on the treason, of life's act, so many foolish faces, filled exact the mind, a precious reason, just reacts! Is thought this busy please zone, not contract some daydream, left, a glee dome, to look back and not create that interest, struggles sack to try and fail, the fall owned ~ by contact! It's information's wedge cone, mindful swap does sift with memories stilled hone, toting hack can't cheat ~ there's more to glean through, cover's flap, my selfhood on this steamroll, just distracts! Guess I'll go home, and sweep through staid errand's bric-a-brac something is lost to mean's view, creation's scrap The slower versions, schemes few, the writer's craft ~ Are eyes, and ears, the seen to . . . . my own thought's wrap!