In days of old, through bustling streets they rolled, mobile bookshops, treasures on wheels untold.
Whispering tales of wisdom, bound in ink and page, they ignited our minds, like flames of a bygone age.

But now, dear friend, a change has come to pass,
The winds of progress, they move with purpose fast.
Gone are the days of quaint and wandering carts, replaced by screens and bytes, a new realm of arts.

No more the sound of turning pages in the air,
No more the scent of paper, rich and rare.
For in our hands, devices sleek and slim,
We hold entire libraries, endless stories within.

Let's pause and reflect, my dear,
for something's lost when progress draws near.
The magic of discovery, serendipity's dance,
fading echoes of handwritten poems, lost in chance.

No longer do we stumble upon hidden gems,
No longer do we converse with book lovers, like them.
For in this digital age of instant gratification,
the mobile bookshops fade, a distant recollection.

But hark! Let us not mourn this changing tide,
for literature's spirit, it can never truly hide.
Though gone are the days of rolling carts and lore,
Books' enchantment lingers, forever to endure.

Let us seek, within the virtual realm we dwell,
The echoes of the past, the stories they still tell.
Embrace the words, the journeys they reveal,
and keep the love for books alive, with hearts that feel.

Though mobile bookshops may be a memory dear, the written word lives on, in realms far and near.

© Simrans