The Last Writable CD

I don’t remember the last CD I burned. It’s been a long while. I don’t remember packing my burner away. Hell, I don’t even know where I stored it. I’ve got folders full of disks, but no idea when or what the last burn was.

So I wrote a poem about my last CD burn.

In the realm of bytes and bits, we stood,
Craftsmen of a digital age, misunderstood.
A disc of silver, in our hands it twirled,
A canvas for our thoughts, in a binary world.
The hum of the drive, a comforting song,
As data found a home, where it belonged.
A symphony of light, a laser's dance,
Imprinting our essence in a trance.
Songs of youth, pictures of old,
Stories in pixels, emotions bold.
Burned into existence, a timeless art,
A piece of us, ready to depart.
The final click, the task was done,
Under the soft glow of the computer's sun.
Little did we know, it was the last of its kind,
An era's end, in the back of our mind.
Now in the silence, we remember the sound,
Of a simpler time, in memory found.
The last writable CD, its purpose served,
In the annals of nostalgia, lovingly preserved.