Is the heavy keys on a keyboard

That remind you of the typewriters

You learned to dance your fingers on

It’s the weight you now look for

The steely clack

The endless rythm

The assurance of force at your fingertips

As you wrestle through another treatise

It is the promise of a moment

Long forgotten

But quickly remebered

In an instant

You head filled with the stories of yesterday

While you dream about the tales

Of tomorrow


Is the friend who shows up

After a decade away

And you pick up the conversation

As if time was a whisper

Not a roar

It is tactile, but weightless

Heavy, but mist

The ever present ghost

Happily haunting

With hyperbole

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