Forbidden Fruit

Six months waiting
With bated breath
New iPhones are out
But nowhere has them ‘in’
My mail order racehorse
Lost out to the missus’s high street nag
She got her’s first
Increasing my thirst
One Monday night
The doorbell rings
A son sprinting
Courier grinning
Special delivery
For Dad
iPhone 4
S for special
Apple products
Perfectly wrapped
And me
At last
Perfectly rapt.

Steve Jobs RIP

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