F. G. Denton

Keywords: transmission – rust, echo, fingerprint.

Blue sky is turning into purple In optic sensors, neural chain. The echo signal loops in circle, Amplification of the pain. I clench my fist; my rusty fingers Remember softness of your hand, The warmth in sensors coils, lingers, A burning chip in no man’s land. A howling wind is blowing near, You used to laugh under the storm. Your fingerprint, left on the mirror, Still casting shadow, light and warm. Your coffee cup is old and dusty, An urn with ashes of the past, A clock on wall, its hands are rusty, A doomsday hour long had passed. Your books are left with open pages, The stories you will never tell, Will burn my circuitry for ages, The last of those who toll the bell. I send transmissions every hour, One day, you might receive my words. The latest volt of solar power: “Forever yours, in all the worlds”.