Type Scripts Type Echo Through Time Poem by Terence George Craddock

I still hear solid metal clack clack of typewriter keys
I still hear solid metal ring of typewriter at line ends
I still hear carriage return slide to start typewriter new lines
where is the place where the hands reach out to the world?
where is the place where the fingers dance over keyboard?
rooms full of typewriters female typists are ghosts gone
no longer heard are busy buzzy bee typists typing typing
an age producing piles of paper trials gone gone gone


Terence George Craddock (Afterglows Echoes Of Starlight)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock