Modern Convenience.

The cookies in the oven burning,

The dishwasher has stopped its churning,

And the sound of the telephone,

Rings out so that it may be known,

That someone is calling me.


As I struggle to go answer it’s ring,

The microwave gives off an odor,

Which I do not recognize.

All these modern devices bring,

My patience meter to the floor

And I must roll my eyes.


With all these things breaking down this night,

I’ve come to the conclusion,

That we are eating out tonight,

To avoid further confusion.

This poem is about: 


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