The sun rising too quickly
Causing you to begin cursing
These are our shared moments
With these spirits we’re nursing
The cold causing me to shiver
I need some more of your covers
But you have none to spare
Exposing you; a temperamental lover
Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe
I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please
There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes
I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter
Captain Q 