A Literary Decline
In years past we read and wrote,
and even sent an occasional note.
On buses and trains and sundry places,
we carried books and newspapers in briefcases.
In waiting rooms we would read magazines,
to read of the latest fashions and themes.
News stands and bookshops abounded,
as the rustle of paper happily sounded.
As a nation we were avid readers and writers,
with pen and ink in hand we would scrawl like spiders.
Libraries were full of all manner of books,
where noise of any kind drew hostile looks.
Father read the morning rag,
as we children put our books into a school bag.
We were a literate nation without any doubt,
silence was golden and no one dared to shout.
Today a revolution has taken place in our land,
as mobile phones are now readily at hand.
Books with pages are simply no more,
we now have the great eye sore.
Buses, trains and waiting rooms have given way,
to the new technology of the day.
Books are where they now belong and stay,
in corners and on shelves out of the way.
People now peer into little screens,
and communication by simple means.
They listen to music and chat with friends,
whilst others listen and go round the bend.
Others play games with monsters and ghosts,
whilst others seek recipes for the Sunday roast.
The remainder who can no longer be bothered to read,
stare vacantly ahead as so few of them can now read.