Interrupt my thoughts so sober, on this morn in bleak October,
Thoughts of dental talents I mulled, these skills that once set me apart –
Faculties that declared my gift, no longer prized, my mind did drift,
Acquired from books and mentors, these tools that once defined my art,
This guest, I reasoned, mocks my art,
Each squawk a stab to my somber heart.

Pull back the blind to view my guest; the meeting would remove the pest,
He gaped at me with iron will, and read my thoughts, it made me ill,
Ledger cards, and appointment books, his eyes did say with furtive looks,
 Paper to keep presses rolling, got to support the paper mill
Vile squawking at the paper mill,
And all this from my window sill.

Eyes of despair mocked film x-ray, dipped in tanks, was the only way
Then suspended on lines to dry, light boxes to see what you need,
White liveries light the long dead past, stained from the day’s earlier tasks,
The feathered guest tells me its gone, his eyes did speak and I must heed,
“I won’t let go”, I’ll not concede
 From the dark past I’ll not be freed.

Loudly he continued mocking, through covered ears I heard the squawking,
“The past is dead, digital now”, the message he darkly implored,
“All thoughts of analog away, It’s a new world, embrace today,”
“Never” I screamed at my window bleak, the new ways I indeed abhor,
From the sill a disdaining laugh, about the skills I so adore,
A single word the bird did speak, ‘twas the word “Nevermore”.

.