Ode to a Phone (an iPoem)

Metallic pink, silver, bejeweled,
Like a spoiled young girl’s tutu.
Try to get me on the horn,
It would belt out White Unicorn.
Text messaging was a breeze,
Fingers and thumbs flying on the keys.
Brain Challenge and Centipede,
My workplace drive did they impede,
But now it’s gone without a trace,
It could have gotten anyplace.
Between seats of a yellow cab,
Or spirited away by Queen Mab.
I won’t though, let this chance be blown,
This excuse to upgrade to iPhone.