As I nested in my cubby, writing e-mail, waxing bubbly,
Shunning kids and even hubby,

Came a rapping at my door:

"Storm warning," and nothing more.

I ignored the portent, suspecting the intent

was to disengage my person from the keyboard I adore,

to go fix dinner du jour.

Humble chores and nothing more.

But a warning came a flashing

cross my monitor; the clashing

cataclysmic clouds were splashing

raindrops more and more.

Finally, a surge of rougue electric impulse

Seeped into my lines to douse

all the toys in my house,

leaving me dejected in the darkness I abhor.

"Only candles?  Nothing more?"

Now, I wait in wonder for the UPS to gander

up my sidewalk with my new Dell computer from the store.

I've nothing left to ponder; my credit is squandered

on a top-line processor.

'Tis all I want, and nothing more.