SLYME by Michelle B. Assor
No time to dawdle or rhyme.
No time to swish this ghastly mite.
No time to flowingly write.
Camera lenses ogle
through the dark eyes of the iPad.
Beware roaming pens…..
You will be chomped and your ink run dry
Bet you didn’t know devices bite like mites.
Pens prepare for your finale.
No more writing rights!
No time to listen to melodic chimes.
Free time demands a puny dime.
Flat faced phones are advanced.
C’mon they are not that smart,
but they sure know how to keep
blushing face to face conversations
woolly worlds apart.
Where am I? Mars or the Moon?
Earth is too flat. I’d rather be as high as a kite
Yet I’ve forgotten how to climb a tree to take flight
If time permits I’ll slink the clock,
forego my stinky socks
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