Books Poem by shimon weinroth

books in boxes, boxed to rest
occupying floor space,
up in attics, down in basements,
books on shelves, stood upright,
gather dust, poxed, foxed, and turning yellow

some were handled others fondled
still, others ignored, waiting to serve,
print on pages, inked for ages, genetic codes
awaiting triggering,

in the beginning was the word, that electrified
being once heard, echoed around the world, then
took flight to outer space,
radio waves, electronically pulsing, came to rest

between leaves of pages faint and fading,
captured for future reference, mass produced
multiplied and signifying in form of scrolls,
booked all those memories

(the first commodity mass produced was books)