Oh, how I'll miss the marquee at the high school;
I can remember the fun times of red and green socks;
Of the many nuns who would never be kissed;
Of "the fight" on USA.
Ah, the good times we had;
Nearly falling off the teetering ladder;
Practically killing someone with flying letters;
Changing zeros into O's, P's into D's.
I will miss begging for money on behalf of someone else;
The broadcasting of inside jokes;
The pleading of "insiders," wondering what would be next;
The ability to change the perpetual lameness of the messages.
But, alas, technology has taken over;
The chipped and taped plastic replaced by blinking red;
Ingenious and clever comments lost to the time, temperature, and date;
Unintentional wind-blown spaces substitued with burned out bulbs or technological jibberish that invariably appears.
My juvenile pastime is lost;
Despite my attempts to remain as Peter Pan;
I suppose someday I'll need to grow up;
Though I have been enjoying the procrastination.
If you would also like to mourn with me, please comment or send me photos to upload.