Different Drummer

Seems I was born years too late

Out-of-step with the current date

It’s hard to explain how I feel

Why modern gadgets lack appeal

I like stuff basic, not too complex

Simple things, not ‘What-the-heck?’s

Books with pages, not with screens

Flannel shirts and old blue jeans

Telephones that stay at home

Not going everywhere we roam

Going outside for fresh air

And just taking pictures there

Smelling flowers, drinking tea

Senses don’t work virtually

Hearing music played out loud

While amidst the swaying crowd

Conversations with a friend

Face-to-face, not hitting “send”

This constant contact without rest

Texting, Tweeting, Friend Request

Can’t replace a simple kiss

Or other joys in life I’d miss

Call it Karma or call it Fate

I was just born much too late