My book sits on the shelf right there,
not a Nook or electronic gear.
I’d rather have the feel and smell
of printed page I love so well.
A book’s battery will never die,
or refuse to load on the fifth try.
I can hand it off to a good friend,
or maybe to family I might send,
pass it along to sister or brother
or to a stranger to discover.
Can write my notes or get it signed,
for that’s what it was so designed.
Or keep it till it’s the end of me,
without paying another fee.