A simpler time

As I grow old

I sit and think

About the pace of life, succinct.

of colour changes

Through the ages,

And instant knowledge,

Not turning pages,

When by the radio we sat,

Imagining a scene dispatched 

Into our minds eye, quite sweetly,

To images that move completely. 

The youth will never have the grace,

To live in an imagined space,

Without the help of graphics gleaming,

Through modern instrumental streaming.

In older times we told the stories 

Past down from generations storing,

Creative telling through the pages,

Now lost in these technical ages. 

As dusty books begin to rot,

And silverfish make homes of stock,

The digital future is missing much,

That imagination had taught us such.

When electricity has gone away,

I hope We still have books and pray,

That renaissance of inspired mind,

Will not be very hard to find.