In the road, up the street,
Down your way; ’tis there they meet
In whirligigs of light which byte
Into their state of being,
And souls feel brighter when they reveal
To naked screens and phones which moan
The screams and dreams of viral shame
That knows no other name
Than callous boredom of oblivion.
To place the blame, full fair and square,
For lack of joy in this their game
The hoi polloi (both boys and girls)
Their toys employ
To have their say intelligent albeit artificial.
But can we think of yesteryear when first we met
With nought but pencil, pad, chalk and slate
To write our passages of a sad or glad, prosaic love
With a labour lost that had its day
Over the hills and far away.
With a heigh ho and a hey nonny no
To oblivion shall we also go?
|| features@portugalresident.com
Roberto Cavaleiro first came to Portugal in 1982, acting as advisor to international investors. Current interests include animal welfare and writing opinion articles, especially with reference to environmental issues.
