Communications are getting
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
Ninety years. I forget my name.
A smiling stranger cares for me.
I don’t know you, but I love you.
The songs remain.