I spy
A typewriter
An ancient
One that
Speaks foreign
Languages but
Aren’t all
Things the
Same aren’t
Things we
Feel translated
Why then
Does it
Sit there
Unassuming does
It wait
For someone
To type
To play
It’s keys
And once
Again be
Whole are
We all
Not like
That waiting
To be
Found discovered
And free
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 