and the words come flowing out.
as music from my head, my heart just
sits down on the paper
for all to see.
or at least one.
some letters and symbols are missing, the important ones are present
to translate for me the beauty of owning something
something partially bent and busted and used up and new
still lives on in the best of ways, the finest of uses
in the hands of the young and inexperienced.
i type as you would have, perhaps
o stranger who once owned this thing.
i am certain the joy oozes from each push of a letter
each carriage return,
the 'ding!' of the reminder
that this line can only be so long.
there are mistakes on nearly every line; at least every paragraph
and some seem fixable
but you can still see the wrong, just pushed harder over with the right.
thank you for this gift of old to young
time past to now.
you didn't know it
but i need it.
the cadence of your creation
soothes my soul
in a way i have not known in eons.
3ooo times the pleasure of a slow life
filled to the brim.