A poem to my Mac Book Air, returned from the shop. Oh how I missed you!
Oh lovely machine that you are,
returned to me from afar,
humming strong and gleaming bright,
too long kept beyond my sight.
Who can resist your metallic gleam,
you light as air, fast, thin machine?
I write my worst (as you can see)
but your long battery life sets me free.
Am I insane to love you so?
You are such a joy to know,
but you are just my writing tool
and adoring you makes me a fool.
I don't care! I love you, Mac Air.
No other lap top can compare.
I let the words come pouring out.
Although my Muse has begun to shout
STOP IT!
(And now you know exactly why I will never call myself a poet.)
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