Ode to a feckless phone without mercy
If only I could I’d fling your heft
O, device of delight shining brightly
Dragging my joy to its lowest depth
When your role was to make me happy
Instead you’ve rendered my plans bereft
Pixelated frozen true crime documentary
No podcasts, no paranormal audiobooks, no nothing left
Yet a skein of wool has never betrayed me
And my knitting magazine soothes my distress
Thank the fates for my paperback by Anthony Berkeley
Take that spinning pinwheel of death
circularstaircase 