I spend my days sitting staring at a box
Called an iMac.
Except in the evenings when I
Sit staring at another box
Called a TV.
Alone, like solitary millions
Each communing with his box.
This is the Modern Way.
But this Thursday we'll all gather
To sit collectively staring at a different box
In which you lie.
You'll have brought us together
For ceremonial box-staring.
3 comments:
Oh Sandra.
Terrific poem. Thursday...God will be with you.
Sad.
Hope you're okay. I was thinking of you on Thursday and you're still in my thoughts
Thanks folks. All done now, but I'm still dazed.
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