Table of Contents - Vol. VII, No. 3
I see your world approach: a cyberworld
of virtuality, of robot wars
for sport; a world of hothouse boys, and girls
who’ll never see the plain unfiltered stars.
I make a package for you, joys I’ve known
that will be lost to you: the smell of books;
the misted silence of a lake at dawn;
a fresh-plucked peach; how tall-grass prairie looks.
Yet after all, whose pain do I address?
Not yours, for all I thought to save for you,
you will not miss. You’ll fill your own hope chest.
These pleasures, they were mine; their loss is, too.
And so, a lesser valedictory:
be strong, live long, find joy. Remember me.
© Michael Harty