I’ve a bookcase of tomes on the subject
Not sorted, just there to be browsed.
I’ve folders just bursting with copies
At least they’re quite happily housed.
I’ve enough lace related work projects
I know I must do ‘fore I die.
But whenever I spot something new out
A strange look comes into my eye.
For that book may have just what I wanted
Like a technique I’ve not seen before.
What happens if publishers cull it?
I must have it now, I would roar.
So out comes the battered old plastic
Thank heavens for credit on line
To use all the books on my bookshelf
I must live past one hundred and nine!
by Noelene in Cooma