Sweet technology has no rhyme.
Its rigid structure can't write a line.
Pieced with paper clips and twine,
sometimes, it arrives just in time.
It started with a simple crutch.
Carved with a gentle loving touch.
To fit the arm and hand with care,
built for years of rugged wear.
With only an example as a guide,
unyielding stainless steel tough as hide.
He built a hand splint as yet untried.
A work of art and source of pride.
Electric Underwood was stolid and punk.
Keys stuck together; type full of gunk.
Thousands of pages at a one-finger plunk.
Requiring the patience of a stoic monk.
The mouse and desktop looked like a toy.
But for real work, it was an incredible joy.
Graphics and spreadsheets with ease,
high-quality presentations became a breeze.
Gel cell batteries and a 20 mile range,
Electric wheelchair no longer strange.
Able to take one almost anywhere.
Freedom of mobility without compare.
Cracking speech-recognition was a great feat.
Taking many a programmer down in defeat.
Speech recognition has written this line.
Speech recognition has reached its prime.
With a little f__'n magic and wiring galore,
a lowered floor van opened the driving door.
Zero pressure steering and a gas-brake that goes,
enables driving the way the mind knows.
No one wants to sit on a sore butt.
A pressure sore is the unkindest cut.
A cushion that floats, yet supports is the key,
allowing long hours and productivity.
With modern medicine right on the brink,
of a stem cell therapy that could be the link.
It's hard to believe anyone that would think,
that this technology's time had not come.
Electronic Mobility Controls
Copyright 2006 © Ronald W. Hull
Read War's End, the Novel