I love my old computer more each day,
I don't know what I'd do without her here.
We spend so many happy hours at play,
Gone are the times when daily life was drear.
The things I try to do she understands,
My fingers on her keyboard make her day,
Her 'ssorted software's putty in my hands,
Together with my hardware, plug and play.
We do so much together it's just great,
She sits and waits for me to turn her on,
I open up her Windows 98
Then click upon her icons and she's gone.
She lies and waits to see what I'll do next
And loves it whether graphic or plain text.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Terry's All Gold hits that spot again..