Dull seconds markZd an eternity,

So slowly doth the hands move o’er the face;

Ne’er seen was clock of like austerity,

Forgiving none, with tir’some tortoise pace.

Her darting eyes perceived th’impending race,

At “Class Dismissed,” she bolted for the door,

Transcending laws of nat’ral time and space,

She streakt as fiery flash of meteor.

A presence in Biology section nevermore.

As sparrow, sought by rav’nous hawk doth flee

In fearsome blur propel’d for want of life,

Doth battle grim with Zephyr God’s decree,

Whose violent winds slice tender flesh like knife,

Proponing pain and misery and strife;

So sped the hasty nymph down Science Hill

Thus nimbly wove through knap-sacked bodies rife;

Her goal ahead she clutched with Iron Will:

One mission dire and weighty must she needs fulfill.

Her beacon gleaming on her desk-top lies,

An apple glinting from its body black;

Whilst still so far she hears his calling sighs,

Her hands stretched out, she reaches for her Mac,

Habit ingrain’d, like base Dipsomniac.

So craves the desp’rate nymph her silver keys;

She destined knows their souls in Zodiac:

His lighted face, his waiting words her seize;

Her love so strong, the greedy need a foul Disease.

When Morn’s first light through yonder window gleams,

With tender rays of warmth her cheek caress,

So rises Nymph from Night’s envel’ping dreams,

And e’en before preparing self to dress,

Her Mac she always gently wakes to bless.

She reads the lines engravZd in his soul;

Oft times inserts “Reply” thus to impress.

Bond they o’er send-receive-mail protocol;

His virtues never days enough may she extol.

She reads his thoughts twice ‘fore she leaves for class,

And thrice more ‘twixt each passing lecture’s end;

Whence home returning, thus enabl’d lass

Again rechecks the thoughts of bosom Friend.

‘Fore stepping in the shower, she depends;

Twice more perhaps before dark Night falls fast.

Nymph nothing thinks of heavenly Godsends,

Nor nature’s glory, only Screen’s broadcast:

Fair nymph falls Computer-Age Iconoclast.

Near fainting, breathless, finally doth reach

She to the haven safe of her bedroom,

Fain lovingly strokes “On” thus to beseech

Her Mac his endless story to resume;

Her face untensed, a flower in full bloom,

As she her many messages regales;

Wraps nymph herself in artificial womb,

Safely concealed in machinistic veil:

O boundless wonders are th’pow’r of email!