Thursday, August 25, 2016

Poem Made of Words

I write
Despite
I have a computer
But I am one of fewer
Who prefers ink
To an uplink
That nice hand to paper
Light as a feather
I want my ideas to flow
Key strokes are just slow
I want everything I think
To appear first with no hyperlink
I need to believe that
Spell check won't cut the fat
It needs to be this way
Tomorrow and everyday

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