PINK SATURDAY
PINKYPOD
PINKYPOD
I don't possess an iPod;
I don't really desire one.
So I'm not in the market
To purchase or to hire one.
Melodies by the hundred
Can be heard at any minute,
Two hundred and forty items
They tell me it has in it!
But I recall the old days
Listening to the radio,
When sudden recognition
Brought a bright all-over glow!
I'd be standing at the sink
And the radio would be playing
And, suddenly, I'd be alert
As I heard the announcer saying
That 'my favourite tune' was next in line!
I'd stand there like a stone
As the music from some dance-band
Played for me alone.
And at the end I'd sort of sigh!
It had been quite sublime.
But now I knew I'd have to wait
Till it came around next time.
I'd hum the melody in my head
To hold-on to the pleasure.
So each particular hit-song
Became a special treasure.
But now, a finger-jab away,
Is quick gratification!
No waiting, yearning, hoping;
No desirous contemplation.
Quickly come, and quickly go,
Short-byte! One two three!
But where's that old-time magic?
The iPod's not for me!
*
Another cry from the heart here:
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