Tonight I write a poem with pen and pad
Upon this two-show day of Henry V.
My iPhone rests behind my chair plugged in,
The cord supplied of insufficient length.
O what can I with simple paper do
Of import that would match my Facebook's state?
An email might for many minutes sit
Unknown, unread, devoid of swift reply.
Tomorrow's weather stays a mystery,
No picture sent to Flickr when it's took.
I fear a post comes from my favorite blog,
And yet I'll know it not upon this hour --
Perhaps to wait until I reach my home.
And oh for shame, however will I know
One of my apps perhaps is obsolete,
An update waiting in the App Store now
That was not there to get an hour past.
The world is changing, yet I can't be told,
But sit and call a show five centuries old.
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