The Computer

The computer as an instrument,
Is thought by some as heaven sent,
But to others not inclined,
It's just a bother to the mind.

Equipped to cars and planes and houses,
(Perhaps someday to even spouses,)
Performing tasks to us unknown,
Its influence has mutely grown.

From your desk or from your lap,
You can leap the virtual gap.
Enter data, calculate,
Just be careful- concentrate!

A few keywords, and you can get
Out onto the Internet,
Jammed with sites for every taste-
Be sure you’ve ample time to waste!

I have moused and clicked and pointed
With forefinger near disjointed,
On tool and menu bars abundant,
Completing jobs and chores redundant.

And though I am computer hip,
I sometimes hate that microchip.
The more I learn, the less I know;
I’m snared in digital vertigo.