A wocket in my pocket.

This is a poem I wrote for school that was supposed to mimic G. K. Chesterton's  "A Piece of Chalk" and describe something I had in my pocket-thus the subject matter. :P

A lump is in my pocket;

It is so still and small,

Yet it is not a wocket,

Nor a rubber ball.

I reach inside the denim,

To safely put aside,

The small black foreign object,

That in my pocket doth abide.

It is of a plastic-ish demure,

With an argent inlaid rim,

And its rubber buttons have a texture,

That is anything but dim.

Upon further investigation,

I find a little screen,

That is a technical innovation,

But is anything but clean.

So I slide the top gently over,

To expose tiny black keys,

That when pressed make the screen lighter,

And carries the hum of a thousand bees.

The world opened there,

Is one of exploration,

For regardless of if you care,

It brings with it progression!

This object; though a small black box,

Has with it the power of a million stallions,

For faster than the pony express trots,

The cell phone sends texts to battalions!

© 2012 db