Sylvia's Poetry

Technology is wonderful in many, many ways,
But sometimes we should go backwards to the good old fashioned days,
Picking up the telephone, frustrating quite a bind,
When all you want is an answer, to a question on your mind.
The thing you didn't want is the dreaded voice machine
In for a timely session the biggest bill you've ever seen.
Automation tells you, press digits four, three, or two,
The operator tells you the lines are busy, we'll get back to you.
Information tells me I'm in a line up queue.
Then there is a click, with the phone still to your ear
On comes the dreary music is the next thing that you hear.
After half an hour, pins and needles in your hand sets in,
It wouldn't be so bad if to the music you could sing
At last it's your turn, you're finally on you way,
After all the time and money
You've forgotten what to say