Ode to a Flat-Faced Friend 

Silently perched upon the shelf,

Quiet sentinel in repose,

Yet upon the table, a clamor unfolds,

Voices silent, yet tales it boldly told,

Filling minds with unseen worlds, untold.

A trove of data, neatly tucked away,

Marked by bookmarks, varied as day,

Stolen novel; please report.

Histories rich, internet now stray,

In the quiet, its wisdom holds sway.

Beware the worm, its dreaded foe,

Cherish the people, those who know

The worth of words, against time's flow,

Plagiarism lurks, yet justice's steps are slow.

Once cherished friend, now oft ignored,

Replaced by screens, your tales outsourced.

Yet in the digital gleam, entertainment bound,

My ink and pages rarely found.

Invisible, yet waiting still,

Someday nostalgia your senses will fill.

The scent of paper, the ink's embrace,

Forgotten words time cannot erase.

Here I rest, until decay,

Or termites claim their woeful prey.

Yet even then, in destruction's dance,

To them, perhaps, I'll became of importance.