It's full of desks, typewriters, books and stuff,
Including my computer (fancy that!).
These days I'm finding, though, it's not enough.
I've recently come late to a new game:
Of pod'iobooks - recordings of new works
By authors who tweet with me, know my name,
And sometimes read my sonnets. Only jerks
Accept attention but don't give it. Shame!
To rectify this I there dipped my toe,
Grabbed onto it and pulled me down below,
And carried me far from the peaceful shore.
I'm happy there to swim, but now I find
My office chair is numbing my behind.