You are Zoom.

Dear Dr. Zoom,

I do not like to sit and Zoom.

I do not like to share my room. 


I do not like to show my mess.

I do not like to have to dress.


I am tired of the screen.

I do not desire to be seen.


I look to Alexander Graham Bell.

Talk on the phone and clean as well.


I cannot do it when I Zoom.

I cannot use a mop and broom.


I cannot sort a load of clothes.

I cannot sit and paint my toes. 


I cannot go out and pull a weed.

I cannot do my bathroom deed.


I cannot water my house plants.

I sit and sit like in a trance.


I cannot tell what’s work, what’s home,

The screen is like a confined dome.


I prefer meetings face-to-face

to be with others in one place.


So dear Dr. Zoom and doom,

tell me why I should sit and Zoom. 


Dear Grandma,

Try it! Try it!

You will see 

a face, a smile,

collective glee!


Try it! Try it!

You will view

your kids’ laugh, 

a dance or two!


Dear Dr. Zoom,

Sometimes sitting hurts my butt.

I feel the distance in my gut.


Friends and family far away,

I wish that I could go and play. 


Dear Grandma,

You will! You will!

You will play!

Stick with Zoom

until that day! 


Trust in the WHO,

obey the plea

of doctors, nurses,

the CDC.


Dear Dr. Zoom,

I get it! I get it!

Zoom does show. 

I get to watch

my grandkids grow.


I get it! I get it! I will sit still.

Seeing faces is a thrill.


I’ll ignore my wrinkles, gray roots and nose,

all the quirks that screentime shows.


Noone cares what I wear.

What matters is that I am there.


I may be tired – put to the test

of distance but I know what’s best.


Thank you, thank you, Mr. Zoom.

You lighten up our quarantine gloom. 


4 thoughts on “You are Zoom.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *