By Patricia A Fawcett.

As thumbs pulsate erratically, written in a foreign code,
Ringtones sound all around, transferring to another mode,
This inconvenience translator gets you in an inconvenient place,
Like the discomfort of Big Brother, hope no photo takes your face.

An ideal way to say I love you, or sorry about last night,
A cowardly way to say goodbye, but a welcome text at night
It helps you get directions, and even your dress size,
You can be truthful texting, but really it could be lies.

You can ring up late, make a date and even order a loaf of bread,
Do we need this disturbance entering our head?
Whether you're on the bus, pushing a trolley or even on the train,
Phones are stuck to our ears feeding messages to our brain.

Do we really need the inbox? When we have something we need to say
But don't be too old fashioned this is the modern way,
If you unscramble all these messages giving you peace of mind,
Try deleting at the end of the day, oh no! Another message you will find.