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!
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