My on-line connection to cyber-speak is broken,
and I am adrift, cold turkey, disabled, unspoken.
Computer gurus and gadget wizards are attacking
my computer's innards.
The operation could take "several days",
the "de-cluttering" first, saving stage.
Then reprogramming, 28,800 mode,
Windows 95, same pass code.
All for the sake of electronic salvation,
my confusion to become reorganization.
Faster, better, more powerful locomotion,
double-click moused graphic resolution.
My Packard Bell 486, multi-media, sound blaster machine,
will be revived, restored, anti-virused, and clean.
A present for Christmas from Mini and Jon,
I can hardly wait to get back "on".
Meanwhile, it is Eduquest Forty-five,
upon which I must survive.
Lorna's 'puter, brought home from school,
with my Panasonic Quiet b/w printer, how cruel
but I suffer now from withdrawal pangs.
My friends on-line from AOL, must wonder,
what kind of spell that I am under.
Poetry I may still find a way to write,
but not yet rhyme any on-line flight.
Exercising my mind will have to do,
until the treadmill arrives, nothing else is new!
So, my friends, I hope you still are,
when I get back to Cyberia, afar.
I wish you well, "Happy Holidays",
and a "Happy New Year!" computer age.
(Dedicated to my friends on-line to whom this may concern, and, to whom may read this, upon my return.)