The Keyboard :: A Poem

Were these the most precious years of my life?
That I just wasted typing 26 letters and few symbols
My fingers run like magic on this keyboard
And i forget my dad's birthday

Things went by too fast, I couldn't make them last
There is a lot that I left behind
I'm in the future, seeking rewind
What is gone, now it can't come back

It makes me sad to think
Why I wasn't thinking then
There is a lot I could have done and said
But I just typed all my anger away

The funny thing is that it doesn't hurt any more
Just a silent resignation of will and desire
What is my problem, i am not even sure
But i am looking for a spark to rekindle the fire

Then, maybe
I'll get a rocking chair
And watch the fire burn
To warm my old knees
On which I will place this keyboard
And type my old age away
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It's a disjointed poem. If you also earn your livelihood by mashing your fingers in a keyboard, isn't it time we did something new?