Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


A Laptop Human


A laptop, once new and shiny,
Has lost its workable memories,
Always kept on the virulent laps,
To fidget with the nodes of tops,
The broaden world swirls to dance,
The trove of treasures always await,
Nectar from the Pons starts to soothe,
Always gets hot, over the long abuse,
Cooling is done with the addition of a caring fan,
Horse powered bits and bytes,
With the size of life cycle of eight,
Overworked for many decades,
Now has its thermostat confused,
Shivering cold and sweating heat,
The laptop is left aside as the show piece,
the saddened faced visitors arrive,
to have the last look of the aging laptop,
that is longing for love and hug,
but so frail even to touch and hold.

Submitted: Sunday, August 18, 2013
Edited: Monday, August 19, 2013

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