Lightning is not your friend, my friend,
When it comes streaking down from on high,
To assult those innocent pixies
That race around inside
That smooth metal case
Sitting so loyaly on the desk.
Poor pixies – dead before their time.
Cute little Modem, always so quick to smile,
And lithe Ethernet, the whimiscal one.
Gone too, poor Router,
Sturdy workhorse
That he was.
But, alas, no match for lightning,
Fearful force from the sky.

Thus, I've been out of touch.

~jon

 
~jon
My Blog - Mad Utopia Writing in a new era.