Search Function

Window of mystery into history,
through your pane no one looks.
A river of knowledge; no need for college.
Questions, answers, ponderings, books.
Though frosted you seem in this digital dream,
you need only click, thus to seek.
And know all these thoughts, like boiled-over pots,
boil over at least thrice a week.
Throw back the blind on this window through time.
Yes, you. I double-dog dare you.
It's off to the right; a tool, not a blight.
Be the first, if you've a care to.