This piece is my way of cherishing old-fashioned books using the statement: "Books are better than eBooks because…" In no way shape or form am I downing eBooks. I am just more passionate about the physical pages in a book. There's something innately intimate about it all. I hope you find a story to inspire you today, no matter how you read it. Good vibes to you!
The feel of a book is like no other
The paper reminiscent of newfound treasure
Golden words spilling from each corner
Pages drawing you in
The light of an eBook screen only providing half the story
As you struggle to wonder
What the adventure may have felt like
How that page revealing the plot smelled
For there is no other scent like a book in this wide world
New, containing a unique fragrance of fresh print
Old, of aged space and time, classics sticking out anywhere
Just as the reflection of yourself against new technology
Though good, but it is not the same
For us "older souls" crave the touch of withered spines
Or the soft swish of flipping through an updated title
With our drinks in hand or food nearby,
It is the book that keeps us half sane in this completely insane world
We fight to read biographies of heroes in old library chairs
We make a fuss to read fiction in new book corners of make-shift collections
Maybe it's just us, but nothing can compare
It would never be the same
My soul would crumble,
Not being able to hold something that is just as important
As the air I breathe
Or the food I eat
Such are stories that keep my imagination strong
And my dreams more realistic
Like the brave people I read about who risked
So much of themselves to create the world they wanted
Such is the inspiration
Through books in their true form
Nothing wrong with the warm glow of an electric-powered tale
Light, illuminating the space as sadness descends on a tragedy
Or unrequited love creeps into the night-mode lit screen
But oh, how much it means to have that same tragedy
Catch a stray tear from your eye as you try to decipher what has happened
And how that unrequited love tears you so, that you clutch the spine to your chest
In our dramatic fashion
In our search for stories other than our own
Leave me to my pages
May the same stories fill your screens
As they've written themselves inklings against my soul
Long live the pages, the true heroes