Requiem for a Quill

 Tap tap tap, fingers strike each key
the sound of fingertips over cheap plastic
everyone in the room quiet for hours
unaware of the souls floating all around us
muses long gone in this digital theme
their signals distorted by the presence of cold steel 
the gentle stroke of quill against paper's cradle
now replaced with screens, keyboards and tangled cables
gone are the romances with the curve of each letter
tried to be forged now by autocorrect and font setters
the era of passion long vanished
in it's stead came Google, Wikipedia and 'copy paste this'
how bland and hollow have these words become
in the absence of the true magic of paper and pen
with the first contact of the quill's tip comes out
a part of our soul entrapped in this art 
unlike the dull robotic world of today
bright colors burst through every page
all part of the writers mind and grace
which is missing in this millennia's haze
so rid us of this steel and glass
and give me back a pen and relax
free to doodle on the page
till the next idea is firmly placed
in a serene atmosphere
 where you hear the air
the scratch of pen ripples this quiet affair
no tap no click no hum of machine
no noise that distracts no ugly beast
with every prose I try to write
I slowly draw what's in my mind
just words on a page they might say
I say nay
but a portal to my mind....