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The Typewriter

For my mom and dad

Click click click
Whirr
The sounds of something being born
As the clicking and whirring
Produce
Someone’s thoughts, someone’s mind
Shown on ink and paper

The masterpiece starts to take shape
Clicking and whirring
Born
Like a child of imagination
The thoughts and ideas
They grow up and start to move on their own





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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

monkeyboy said...
Sept. 29, 2008 at 9:18 pm
This is extremely good. I would reccomend this poem to anyone
 
louiev said...
Sept. 27, 2008 at 7:09 pm
this is a really great work. keep it up
 
Sofasnuffle said...
Sept. 25, 2008 at 2:00 am
awesome poem
 
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