Saved by the Bell
The dear old Olivetti, with its inky keys
and their tendency to sticking,
and oft-times, misspelling.
Keys with relentless fists of steel,
that flailed each sheet of paper
with stolid determination.
Keys which hammered on, regardless...
till the end of the line - floored
by that indefatigable bell.
Keys that yelled, with gusto,
“I’m working. Please, do not disturb!”
replaced by technocratic innovation.
Keys that told, both the truth
and an inadvertent lie, presently rusting
on some junk-heap...
or, at best, gathering dust
in a bric-a-brac shop – to end their days
a tear in some nostalgic eye.
Keys that enchcanted, perplexed, excited,
keys I cut my author’s teeth on...silenced,
yet through it all, the word survives.