Connected

There once was a Laptop named Lydia…
Ah, Lydia, sweet Lydia –
Perfect to the touch, silent, quiet,
Receiving Lydia.

Lydia the Laptop adored receiving words,
She would pile and collect, sort, and retrieve
Words,
All words,
Sweet Lydia.

All things hidden in Lydia, dear
All things, mine --
Stories and poems and dreams, ah,
hidden within her "mind."

Lydia lived and lived quite well
From the year 2000 to Six
When suddenly, sweet Lydia
Began to yield and...stutter.

Small things at first – a jiggle here
A sentence dragged, three letters dropped
And All My World Was Inside Her
Lydia cried, and Lydia died,
But not before the words were stored
Safely
In a tiny
Silver
Box.

Goodbye, Lydia, sweet Lydia,
Gratitude dear for your safety.
Gratitude Dear for you Loyalty
The Loss of you,
Our Secrecy, Our Silence,
it lingers still…

II

Sir Wellington Laptop Rules the Roost
Altering surroundings,
"my desk must be there! And what is this dust?
I cannot work in dust!"
Sir Wellington Laptop
Only nods to Lydia as he makes his way in this home

Fingers tremble, he is a fearsome friend,
Demanding that I write OUT.
"OUT!" he shouts, in his dictating way,
and with one small swipe
I'm OUT.
G-mail!
Firefox!
Wikkepedia!
And more!
You Tube and
Photos
And
I-Tunes
SOUND!

Wellington says
"Enough, Dear Girl, You've hidden enough."
Forces and watches each move I make
telling me to "send."
" Send!" he says
and off I go
talking and chatting
revealing myself.

I "reconnect" with this "connection"
A tiny blue light that indicates go
And go, I do
A secret Blog
(no one will know)
and searching for friends,
and Contact, Sweet Contact
with the humans I'd left behind.

I sweep a finger and a whole screen moves,
(The paint on the keys already worn!)
Sir Wellington making me "search," and "scroll,"
And
Movies…
A disk, "for sound?" I ask, afraid
" no… for movies. The Cinema…"
with no tv, I'd forgotten the Pictures
the Sound
Delight
of closing the drapes and watching a film
any film...
Wellington likes them all.

I am in "contact,"
Connected, again
After years of solitude
And I find…
New things each day
"New York Times!" and
Long, lost cousins…

I am Connected
To Life.

Connected

There once was a Laptop named Lydia…
Ah, Lydia, sweet Lydia –
Perfect to the touch, silent, quiet,
Receiving Lydia.

Lydia the Laptop adored receiving words,
She would pile and collect, sort, and retrieve
Words,
All words,
Sweet Lydia.

All things hidden in Lydia, dear
All things, mine --
Stories and poems and dreams, ah,
hidden within her "mind."

Lydia lived and lived quite well
From the year 2000 to Six
When suddenly, sweet Lydia
Began to yield and...stutter.

Small things at first – a jiggle here
A sentence dragged, three letters dropped
And All My World Was Inside Her
Lydia cried, and Lydia died,
But not before the words were stored
Safely
In a tiny
Silver
Box.

Goodbye, Lydia, sweet Lydia,
Gratitude dear for your safety.
Gratitude Dear for you Loyalty
The Loss of you,
Our Secrecy, Our Silence,
it lingers still…

II

Sir Wellington Laptop Rules the Roost
Altering surroundings,
"my desk must be there! And what is this dust?
I cannot work in dust!"
Sir Wellington Laptop
Only nods to Lydia as he makes his way in this home

Fingers tremble, he is a fearsome friend,
Demanding that I write OUT.
"OUT!" he shouts, in his dictating way,
and with one small swipe
I'm OUT.
G-mail!
Firefox!
Wikkepedia!
And more!
You Tube and
Photos
And
I-Tunes
SOUND!

Wellington says
"Enough, Dear Girl, You've hidden enough."
Forces and watches each move I make
telling me to "send."
" Send!" he says
and off I go
talking and chatting
revealing myself.

I "reconnect" with this "connection"
A tiny blue light that indicates go
And go, I do
A secret Blog
(no one will know)
and searching for friends,
and Contact, Sweet Contact
with the humans I'd left behind.

I sweep a finger and a whole screen moves,
(The paint on the keys already worn!)
Sir Wellington making me "search," and "scroll,"
And
Movies…
A disk, "for sound?" I ask, afraid
" no… for movies. The Cinema…"
with no tv, I'd forgotten the Pictures
the Sound
Delight
of closing the drapes and watching a film
any film...
Wellington likes them all.

I am in "contact,"
Connected, again
After years of solitude
And I find…
New things each day
"New York Times!" and
Long, lost cousins…

I am Connected
To Life.