Ode to Thee

Oh computer
How such a small machine
Can give such a headache
I will never know
Truly thou art an insurance policy
To makers of Ibuprofen

Thy continual use
Gives business to Chiropractors
And other quacks everywhere
They are on the phone
Waiting for your complaints of arthritis pain

Tool of the internet
Pages of crap, useless information
Assails me as I try to do research
Anyone can put up junk
But my painful search is rewarded at times
Virgin research, and no dusty books involved

And yet
There are those magical moments
The connection to friends 
Separated by distance
And the weight of years

You make my penmanship perfect
True I am less poetic
I was never a poet to begin with
And this way, I never forget to send my letters