A Dying Art?

Is the printed word dead?
asked a certain someone,
absently scratching his head.

I nearly was undone!
Patently absurd!
Fitfully the idea spun,

a tiny frightened bird,
desperately seeking land.
What was that I heard?

A slowly growing band
now entering the stage,
a crowd, with books in hand,

savoring each precious page,
as senses all were fed,
my fears they did assuage.