Thoughts on parents and technology. A Humorous Poetry Entry
A late night noise outside my door
awoke me from a pleasant dream.
My feet went on the cold, hard floor
and I let out a (tiny) scream.
“Who’d have the gall to disturb me?
What sort of person calls this late?”
I mumbled as I went to see
what sort of nut-job tempted fate.
I used the peephole. No one there
unless of course they were quite small.
I opened up the door with care
but no one was around at all.
I noticed then a cardboard cube,
no label, wrapped in paper tape.
I stood there looking like a rube -
my face a blank, my mouth agape.
Until that is, I heard a ring;
the source – within. What could it be?
Perhaps a bomb was in that thing
and naturally, I turned to flee.
I hid behind my old brown chair
but no explosion or loud noise
or pieces flying through the air.
I managed to regain my poise.
I brought the box into the room,
my curiosity aroused.
I opened it (there was no boom)
and found – a phone was all it housed.
It rang again! I answered it.
“Is that you Bill?” my Mother said.
“Of course it is,” I finally spit.
“Is something wrong?” I asked with dread.
“I couldn't get the voice mail set
so your Dad said to drop it by.
I left a note (or did I forget?)
so I thought I give a call a try.”
She called HER phone? I shook my head
I knew I couldn't refute her
though I made a vow that I’d be dead
before I got her a computer!
An entry for July round of "The Humorous Poetry Contest"
Line Count: 40