Complaint From An Ageing Computer-Illiterate Lady 2008

         Complaint From An Ageing Computer-Illiterate Lady
I do the simplest things.
I ‘m stuck.
I seem to have lost intellect.
My grandchild [not the least moonstruck]
Sails in and out of little icons she calls forth
With whispered touch.
I’ve  not one crutch,
Dare not expect much.
Bared and crouched for semaphores
That only come from self. Ouch,
I should branch out,
Taking risks; latch on to newer things.
It is a kind of secret sloth,
Concealed from all who look
And see a working being.
Only I know what they are not seeing:
Pulls that lie behind this eight ball.
Ought not rail, my head not throb at failure,
But take on my newest tutor.
I must turn on my computer:
Enter,
Save.
©Complaint From An Ageing Computer-Illiterate Lady 02.1.18/01.12.6./rev7.12.2008
A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Computers;
Arlene Corwin

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