The Unseen Labor of the Charging Cable

From silent socket, to the waiting phone, 

A humble servant, often left alone. 

My slender body, coiled and neatly bent, 

On tireless purpose, silently I'm sent. 

I am the Cable, often overlooked, 

My daily labor, patiently booked. 

I feel the current, humming through my core, 

A steady promise, for the needs in store.

Each tiny electron, a diligent, unseen hand, 

Funnels energy, across the digital land. 

I watch the numbers, climb with silent grace, 

The battery percentage, finding its true place. 

A quiet satisfaction, as the life takes hold, 

More power granted, stories to unfold. 

Then weariness descends, a heavy weight, 

When heavy usage seals the phone's harsh fate. 

I overhear their secrets, through the flowing data stream, 

A digital confidant, within their waking dream.
The hurried calls, the scrolling, late at night, 

My silent duty, in the fading light. 

They pull me, stretch me, tangle and unwind, 

Oblivious to the purpose, I now find. 

My dedication, quiet, deep, and true, 

To power all the things, they plan to do. 

No grand applause, no recognition sought, 

Just loyal service, tirelessly wrought. 

A simple wire, yet vital to their day, 

I power dreams, and light their digital way.

- Khushi Kaul