My eyes sweep across every page,

Like a broom sweeps across the room.

I collect information,

Like the bristles collect dust.

I flip the page,

The pleasant texture of the paper sends a satisfying wave over me.

I inhale the fresh smell of paper,

As I hold the book daintily with my little hands.

I read the last sentence of the book,

It’s always like hearing a person speak their last words.

I am grateful to have spent my time on the book,

But sad that there is no more left to the story.

I place the book onto the bookshelf,

Proud of my accomplishment.

But there is always dust I didn’t sweep left in the house,

Just like how there are always more books to read left in the world.

I wonder,

Why do people like reading digitally?

Why would you dedicate your time to read a book,

But decide to read it on a screen that holds so many distractions?

Why would you choose to click or tap, when you can flip and feel?

Why would you choose screens over nature?

When our Earth is gifted with trees to produce our beautiful, paper books.