I went to take a picture
Of my snowflake being cute.
My phone said, “Not today, lady.”
My memory was kaput.
It wasn’t corrupt or hijacked,
It seemed to be working fine,
But there’s already 10,000 snaps
And half of them aren’t mine.
I admit I like a cloud shot
And I take the occasional selfie.
My kids, though, geez almighty,
Blurry shots from bats to belfry.
If I ever need their fingerprints,
I won’t have to bring an item.
I have 500 close-ups of fingers,
It’s the Phone Age way to provide ’em.
Then there’s shots from all the apps,
Cartoons in different wigs.
Surely don’t miss an iteration
Of how you dressed up a pig.
When they venture into actual shots,
It’s sometimes cruelly unkind.
“Here’s Mommy scowling her bestest frown
And a panorama of her behind!”
Delete, delete, delete, delete.
Make room for actual pictures.
Though this one is rather artistic…
What a way to see bathroom fixtures!
Note: By far my favorite is when they take 100 selfies with different facial expressions. I really do save some of those, it’s comedy.