My mac book was making weird, grinding noises from the hard drive, so I sent it to the shop. It sat there for over a week and I went through major withdrawals. I love my Mac Book air. So light, so clean, so fast and portable. I couldn't get any serious writing done while it was in the shop, so I worked on collages and waited. And waited. And pined.
At last, my mac book was returned to me on Monday and I did a joyous dance in its honor. Then I sat down and wrote her this poem. Am I twisted to be in love with a lap top?
Ode to my Mac Book Air
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
(yes, it's true. I am not a poet)