An Ode to the Old USB Drive

A relic of past, a mere USB,

One-point-oh, limited in memory,

A treasure chest filled with echoes of what was,

Emails, half-written tales, a never-ending buzz.

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Bearing code from my college's fleeting phase,

Memories with lovers, the halcyon days,

Fragments of arguments, friends now estranged,

Each byte, a reminder, of times forever changed.

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A story once penned, akin to Twain's Eve,

A lover's suspicion, her refusal to believe,

She thought it was hers, that tale of old,

But it was crafted long before our love's bold.

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This USB, so obsolete, yet so dear,

A fragile vessel of the yesteryear,

Holds more than data; it's my life's array,

A snapshot of time that could soon fade away.

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The cloud may keep it, but for how long?

Google, companies, where will they be gone?

What will remain when all's lost to time?

A legacy? A memory? A forgotten rhyme?

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To anyone else, this drive's just trash,

But for me, it's a timeline, a life's flash,

It's all I can leave for my children to find,

A digital imprint of a wandering mind.

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Publish, distribute, evade obscurity's veil,

This USB urges me, "Don't let memories pale."

For everything's fleeting, yet some things must last,

It's a humble drive, a link to my past.