The Screen
A child of maybe 2 was strapped
Into a stroller seat,
Too young to read or understand
An email, text or tweet.
Yet clutched in both her chubby hands
A cell phone had her eye,
Her focus so intent its purpose
No one could deny.
Her mom or sitter thought, of course,
She’s occupied and rapt,
A state not often found except
For maybe when she napped.
Yet she missed out on all the sights
They passed upon their walk
And cartoon images replaced
The humanness of talk.
Technology deserves its place
In life, but it’s too bad
When the screen is a companion
Which, to me, is very sad.
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