Happy Monday Poetry!

My Hand Held Device

I am warned:
“You’ll get one.
They are a must with kids.”

How did we survive?

Unattached by
the cellular umbilical cord,
we went home
when the streetlights went on,
called from a neighborhood game
of hide and seek
running through yards,
hopping hedges
as twilight turned the sky violet –
not by our mother’s voices,
but by the flicker
of illuminating street lights.

I am listening

to breeze-rustled leaves,
birds whispering secrets,
old lyrics – one line of which
has caught in my brain.
My thoughts –
nothing thoughts.

I don’t want to be

connected
uploaded
friended
found.
I want the handheld device
to be my daughters’ hands,
my husband’s hand.
                     - By Roberta Worthington