Our brothers
the typewriter,
once friend to all writers
collects dust
IN closet,
IN antique store,
IN heap to be thrown out with morning garbage.

But I won't forget No!
I
know its company
as my candle light burnt and creative light
flows now upon
white computer screen.

No, I won't forget,
recalling my old stomping ground
of feet-like fingers
that hit keyboard
with ribbon that wrapped
self in mind.

Oh no I shan't forget
to say thanks
to the old days
where old relative
who gave serenity for words lived.

Thanks Brother, Thanks
for an old family remember
still alive in heart.