Old and rusty
Towering the bookshelf usually
Once, writers can’t live without
Now, won’t even be given a glance

But this typewriter is to me
A patriarch of our history
A boss, a godfather a king of all
who wrote of words, of poems, of lore

You’ll be put to your place
Of comfort and respect
Hats off to you and a round of applause
You lived a good life with a good cause