The Tablet

Dark as the blackest of night, yet so eminent within a sight.

When glancing its page with a flick,
words flare up like a sorcerer’s black magic.

As the spells subdued, rainbows dance with trill.

Its jolly, lovely, lively words bring me anything I would imagine,
even worlds Roald Dhal could not have seen.

It hasn’t changed since the beginning,
still looks and feels clean.

When the sun shines on its flashy face it glares as I stare...

Libra would tell it feels like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,
yet, deep inside it has so many more stories.

Dust doesn’t fly up as I gaze through its pages,
thumb prints were the only clues that it ages.

When its power is flushed,
it tenses up like my mom in the morning rush.

Dad would think it’s a cinema,
Mom brings it to Samba,
although it’s the same, I mainly use it for games.

Its face is so bright and lights up my life.