A Bookish Tale

Poetry on Medium

Parked on the shelf

I gather dust,

As you lose yourself

To distractions and rust.

.

On all those screens,

What’s missing is wisdom.

Yet you dilute your genes

Bingeing on the humdrum.

.

As silverfish find dwelling,

Do you hear my cries?

As termites eat the binding,

My dream finally dies.

.

You pick me after ages

To donate or to sell.

As grubby hands turn my pages,

A new hope begins to swell.