to whoever invented this simple but dangerous equipment
My dear revolving chair
You have me sit in flair
So styled to snugly fit
No size reject to quit
My stylish designed chair
You're sleek and comply fair
I move with you ne'er bend
To access files no end
Relieving stress I recline
A minute's comfort so combine
I hold on to arms of you fine
If else I on floor you would find
And then my garb fine you cling
Unknowing to knowledge you bring
Cut through my fabric you sting
My purse to refill for such thing
Long hours in brace as I sit
Your kind of siblings so fit
The games they do play with such ease
So hapless their victims to tease
By aryaindia
Author's comments:
Those posh revolving chairs have their own disadvangtages which outweigh the advantages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem