Graphic by Billie
Leisure
A boulevard of graceful trees,
A life of leisure, if you please,
Why do we think of long ago,
When into kitchens you might go,
Or into pantries, and the hall,
Whose closets -- We have filled them all!
With magic things, machines and such,
Mylady may need only touch,
A button here, a lever there,
And quickly from the merest air,
A demon vaults to do what’s bid,
Which moments ere was safely hid.
And to her bidding doth he spring,
In midst of which, the phone may ring.
The work delayed, all is not lost,
The time we saved is worth the cost.
So we have more of it right now,
We’ll find a way to spend somehow.
We’ll chatter endlessly anon,
And soon enough, the day is gone.
We have so much, we choose to waste,
Our lives in ever growing haste.
The drive-thru near the mall is slow,
So quiet meals we must forego.
The labor-saving that we do,
Was meant to trim an hour or two,
Instead of time in which we thrive,
We spend it in the “Rush Hour” drive.
NicknamedBob . . . . November 17, 2004
© 2004 - 2008
