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David W May 2014
All is safe and sound,
All is well,
One thousand words down,
And forty-thousand to tell.
All is well.
A day’s good work done.
We can rest!
Set the tablet on the table,
Play me a song,
Let me rest my hands.

But what is this?
Where are the words?
That moment of revelation!
Crafted well over so many hours!
Hours spent sitting,
Mind close to breaking.
Oh, but AutoSave has something!
It must! It was running!
Or recover files lost somewhere,
Far in the depths of this hardware!
But alas! All is gone!
All those hours!
All I’ve done.

I could start fresh,
That would be best.
But those thousand words,
Have gone from my head,
And my thoughts bring me three,
To write down instead.
For all of my work, and all I had written,
*******, Microsoft!
Is all that I said.
This is a piece of flash poetry, written out of anger, which I had no desire to revise at the time. So if you have advice, I'd be happy to hear it, but it says what I want it to say. And beyond that I hardly give a **** at the moment.

— The End —