I can recall my teenage days
Spent in the company of ghosts
Traversing a wooden maize
Of intellectual hosts

Contained in a blanket of silence
Away from the daily chaos
I would look for their guidance
In dealing with life, love and loss

I can still recall the musty scent
Of words written on the time aged pages
Reading the thought out wisdom
Of these ancient sages

The library is lost now
Not needed in this current time
Technology and internet are the new Wow
And ghosts can be downloaded anytime

But I miss sensory feel
And smell of the written leaves
Now lost in the sterile, electric unreal
And there my heart grieves