When I found you, you were ragged.
So dusty. Sleeveless in the cold of your neglect.
Though metal-rimmed. Built to last.
Bumping through the decades, from storage to storage.
But what did you mean?
You were and are a demo. So:
Did you spark a tryst? Give words to some unspoken love?
Why didn’t you succeed?
Today I washed your feet.
Made sure to avoid the pupils of your typewritten eyes.
excavated the grime from your grooves.
What did I find?
A diamond in the rough.
I shall trace your movements to seek you out.
Follow the glass slipper trail to your lovely origins.
Restore you to your former glory.
Copyright Tom Tide 2017