I once owned a computer store in town,
in truth, the place would sometimes get me down;
as with the tale I now repeat to you—
a story which is altogether true.
The strangest sight I've seen in many years,
a boy of twelve years old reduced to tears.
His grandma said, and quite to my dismay,
without his PC, he'd not last the day.
Of sick computers I had quite a few,
I told her she would have to join the queue.
She begged and pleaded, stomped and carried on,
in truth I wished that she would just be gone.
I hid my sadness as I said, "I'll try"—
I really hate to see a schoolboy cry.
But how I wanted to have words with Nan,
advising how to deal with this young man.
I took a guess he'd seldom seen the sun,
he didn't look the type to often run.
It seemed he always stayed inside to play,
I wanted to take her aside and say:
"Just let him fly a kite or kick a ball,
or play impromptu squash against a wall;
no need for endless hours on the Wii,
or watching Seinfeld reruns on TV.
A morning swim and then a mountain hike;
or else, maybe a ride upon his bike.
Ask those who know, they'll happily attest,
extraforaneous pleasures are the best."
Instead, that day I fixed the lad's machine;
got back his internet, the virus cleaned.
I dutifully did as I was bid,
knowing I'd done no favours for the kid.
Though I believe devices have their place,
and having them to use is no disgrace;
I wish she'd shown more int'rest in his play,
and sometimes let him see the light of day.
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Author Notes
Today's word: extraforaneous (adj.) outdoors.
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.
Thanks for reading.
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