I miss the dusty type writer I wrote poems on..its clicking and clacking of the keys hitting the dry paper and the ziiip clunk of the carriage return and then the ding of its bell. The tap tap tap for hours on end writing nonsence and letters just to hear its comforting sounds.. Then the ssssshhhp when you pull out the dry paper that is  freshly inked and it just makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something with the littlest of effort. Alas, this dusty old typewriter..It sits in a brown leather bag under a creeky twin bed in the guest bedroom of my grandparents house. Its a Ferry away and I fear I’ll never hear the clack of its keys again..

I miss the dusty type writer I wrote poems on..its clicking and clacking of the keys hitting the dry paper and the ziiip clunk of the carriage return and then the ding of its bell. The tap tap tap for hours on end writing nonsence and letters just to hear its comforting sounds.. Then the ssssshhhp when you pull out the dry paper that is  freshly inked and it just makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something with the littlest of effort. Alas, this dusty old typewriter..It sits in a brown leather bag under a creeky twin bed in the guest bedroom of my grandparents house. Its a Ferry away and I fear I’ll never hear the clack of its keys again..

posted 1:17 am on Wednesday, July 6, 2011 with 8 notes
tags » #my own,t
#personal
#ypewriter
#clickclack
#type writer
#my own
#carriage return
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