Bookish

They all stare

down and twiddle

their thumbs, tap

with their fingers

and bow their

heads in prayerful

homage to the

screens they hold,

the little electric

heart and souls

of existence. I

hold my book,

my silent paginated

friend, all energy

within and no

batteries or power

cord required. I

prefer the leather

and the binding,

the words unfurled

for me across

the centuries,

the ancient text

without text

messaging.