Like an old phonograph wound down
I am living out of time,
an echo in the refrain of a song
I cannot now recall, but whose tune
grows wearier by the turn.
Our children though are modern.
They are billions of bits scattered on nets
and copied peer-to-peer
with no loss of resolution.
Do they really think
they can play like that forever?
Thank you for reading The music we sing together. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.
The photograph was taken in Cranston, Rhode Island. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.
john
Photograph, poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.
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