The laugh returns,
My bordline in rhyme,
The cheekiness is mine,
To misconstrue into a joke,
The sparkle threatening to poke,
Out from my eye to whom concerns.

Brewing over a mug of equations with a friend,
Carving out a graph beside stark circuit lines,
Weaving up a story to encapsulate the fact,
Cooking up an abstract thought of tiny things,
That make up all the ticking clocks and buzzing air -
Our plane is ready to depart.
Tomorrow we make our escape from all these eager pictures.

Computers sitting in my days,
Screens to hold maths, physics, code,
Keyboards to freeze my many words,
A mobile slab blasting tunes and plays,

And they sit there humming in my days,
Momentary corners filled in my abode,
With flashing lights to tell me loads,
Captivating info in the stalwart rays.