still miss a format, into which for you all of me would fit...

Last night when your time for me elapsed
I didn't hear a single thing...
Only heard how birch trees collapsed
And felt somewhere within
The telephone did ring...
Wished to get to you through the phone
Be by your side so much alone
Wished to send you across a few
Moments of our past homely view...

Had I that strange machine
To cause some kind of miracle
I wouldn't have turned all lights dim
Wouldn't have turned to a rock-bottom sale!

I would just my mind zip
Up into a folder compressed one
And sent that for you to keep
My lovely morning's black swan...

You would then just unwrap
Getting into a kind of time-warp
With the mouse you have a digital display
In your living room you would have me 'on play'!

That would however make redundant
All I did write and paint
Not so digitally clean
On your mind's non HD screen!

Last night on I am thinking sure
What could possibly be the best procedure?
To send to you my mind digitalised
Or to keep them on pen and paper internalized?

Last night on, believe me, I was on a tech tour
To find ways and means to my mind upon you pour
Finally found no such working option
So sending you my mind through scribble, like a simpleton!

But still I miss a suitable format
Into which all of me for you would fit
My words, cries, sobs and laughter
The systole-diastole of my every heart beat!