The Songs Remain

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.

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