new words for the old machine

once
we were young at this
machine.
typing
into the night.
letting the words fall
out
like rain,
like leaves, bright
and soft
off the autumn trees.
what new
thoughts would arise
so easily.
what joy
there was in not knowing
what came
next.
they still come, but
it's different now
with so
much time, so much
love and pain gone by.