Poem: The Typewriter Under The Christmas Tree

There’s a typewriter under the Christmas tree, and it’s for me! I feel 13 again. I remember when I’d sit up late at night typing, hitting down hard on the keys. Then there was a time when I felt them weighing down on me. But that’s changed again just recently. The lid has been lifted, the steam has cooled, and I can collect myself. (Again).

I paid for t…