Sunday, April 11, 2010

Bystander to a Bricking

You were always
a bit of backward
but your small, fuzzy grins
came cheap and easy.

We never guessed
they'd change the rules
so fast.

Salvation might have come
in coupon form,
and dolled-up pretty—
some say better than new—
we could have shared
old games, odd romance,
a few more laughs.

But I let that last chance slip,
and now a brick,
you're going gently onto
the back-alley rubbish
in the middle of the night.

On Day 11 of NaPoWriMo, the ReadWritePoem prompt is the thing you didn't choose. It's an apology to the analog TV I never allowed to go digital.
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