The Punch Card

I hear the past
It calls my name
And It shows me
Hundreds of days,

Most are all
Just empty marks,
Just punched out holes
In the punch card
Of my pre-programmed past.

Of course
I am the programmer,
One without an ending
One without a script.

And I can hear
The future screaming,
Tugging at my soul
The unknown days are shouting
Programming,
As the days go by.

Of course
I am the programmer,
The beginning far away,
The ending so very close.

So I punch the card
As time
Connects the dots.
And the unknown script?
It’s just the present,
Programming
An unknown future.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (2)

hmmmm...life has become such a routine.....programmed! no wonder it reflects so correctly in your wonderful poem.....a true reflection of humdrum! nice
I used to do that very thing, back in the day. How tedious and boring was my IBM...working for the courthous...it was a neverending day of holes...on cards. Loved it. Theodora