Communications are getting

Scrambled.

Once knew three languages, complete with traditional songs.

Transcribed politics with my typewriter,

Romanced my love with the same,

Poems tapped on round, chapped keys –

The rubbed out ‘E’ –

Oh those were the days when we wrote loudly.

Those imprints are being

Dismantled.

Ninety years. I forget my name.

A smiling stranger cares for me.

I don’t know you, but I love you.

The songs remain.