O screen of glass who bears many a touch
Deliverer of knowledge and of laughs
At times you have become a mental crutch
You work for me more than an office staff
Your curvature is straight though you are old
For a device that is; your years are four
The time will come when I will have you sold
As you will slow and weaken in your core
New processors and screens will come to be
And obsolescence will become your fate
Though you have spent these many days with me
You will exceed your best-before due date
O screen of Glass who’s always in my space
It’s not your fault that you will be replaced.