As I watch here in dappled indoor light,
a moving image characterised,
the story of a life well spent,
’tis shared by those of a different bent.
Do I shared any more with thee?
Does this strange box also keep you company?
Along with the feeling it silently commands,
and dead conversation, understand?
Were our paths to one day momentarily cross,
would we converse or be at a loss?
An easy search for plotlines spent,
to make an impression, leave a dent.
Remember Carlton, Uncle Phil,
Ashley, G and Fresh Prince Wil?
What glory, strange and awkwardly told,
could garner pleasure at once sold?
A laugh, a thought, an wondrous period,
of jokes and rhymes and morals myriad.
We sit and watch, curl up inside,
and ride roughshod across a salty divide.
This is a speculative piece about the connecting potential of television and it’s numerous connected narratives. I thought I’d try and view this significant piece of contemporary life from a partially optimistic perspective.