You evolded from a feather,
So soft and touchy,
making marks on paper,
and from the little pointed
Knife of the east to scriblle,
On dried palm leaves,
to todays fountain pen
And the ballpens writing
Billions of books
Which the men wrote
Of his passions, history,
Records of money
And the Goverments
Work with your soft touch.
But we are worried about
You, who may disappear
With the onset of keyboards
touch screens and
Voice cimmands of the computer,
Will you also disappear,
Like your predecessors?
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