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.