The Little Box Of Pictures Poem by Quentin Sands

When it is turned on you are under its spell,
You are cut off from all those around you instantly.
It captures your uttermost attention with its captivating images which eludes your mind.

You hear a voice next to you but there is no response.
A hand goes in font of your face for an instant and yet it has no bearing on you, because you
are in its world and you have become one with it.

Your body sits motionless and your eyes widened like a frightened deer which had escaped
from its prey.
Control is not yours anymore; it is its totally...........
Until someone trips over a cord, then you regain consciousness to the world about you.