my fourth poem today

the keyboard clicks

and clicks and clicks

always producing

always making noise

noise after noise

time after time

and it remains so

a keyboard

for all that it is remains 

as a keyboard

until it is no longer needed

as it cracks

and flowers bloom into it

and they wilt as it clicks

and clicks

and clicks

as it has no time

no room 

to move on

as it is a keyboard 

and keyboard are only good for one thing

clicking and clicking and clicking