Using computer and technical terms this poem expressing how I feel getting old. |
My Hard Drive Is Full by Mary J Fish My hard drive is full. I can't byte off another bit; I think I'm ready to crash if someone doesn't haul me to the repair center for a defrag or a reformat. I can no longer be refreshed. I've shriveled from floppy to disk to compact to thumb drive all in a few short years--at least it seems like a few short years! My days are numbered. I no longer excel at anything. I can no longer think of the right word to say. Somebody better take me quickly before I delete the memories zipped tightly in various formats and files pasted temporarily on the clipboard of my brain. I'm afraid I will soon become lost in cyberspace if something isn't done. My hardware is turning soft; programs with newer applications are constant threats. I need to either update, upgrade, or get exported before my expiration date. I am fully aware of my need to reboot as I keep record in my notebook which sits on my desktop away from any and every mouse that has taken over my cluttered house. I am scared! I really don't want somebody to hit the delete button and send me inadvertently to the trash bin. I really want to be saved! I don't want to lose my head in the cloud. |