Technology appears anew,
as Progress must advance,
and past inventions take their cue,
resigned without a glance.
Replacements serve us humans well,
each polishing the last,
the obsolete are left to dwell
in graveyards of the past.
No time for aged, passé machines,
too quickly Progress comes,
as retrogressive metal scenes
are views of low-tech slums.
How sad to see what once was used
to save us work and time,
now tossed aside, disfigured, bruised,
a shadow of its prime.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. All poetry and photos are copyrighted © 2007-2018 by Jack Huber, all rights reserved.