The telephone’s an instrument
With cause to irritate.
It rings as I go out the door
And nearly makes me late.
When I have just stepped in the shower,
Some callers seem to know.
The same is true when I sit down
To watch a TV show.
When I have worries on my mind,
I’m slow to get to sleep;
Then strident ringing startles me
Awake from slumbers deep.
At times, while talking with a friend
On matters of import,
A snafu happens to the line
That cuts discussion short.
I might be on the no-call list,
But some are still persistent
To sell me something I don’t want.
In fact, they’re quite insistent.
I phone the doctor’s office,
Where my call is then delayed.
I’m forced to “hold” and listen while
Some dreadful music’s played.
For business calls of years ago,
I had not long to wait,
But now to reach my party, I
Press numbers one through eight.
Just when I thought there was no way
The phone could be more vexing,
The cellphone of the modern age
Wed teen-agers to texting.
The phone’s indeed a nuisance, an
But each fault is forgotten ‘mid
My children’s conversation.
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