Rather lounge on a couch nourished
by the sharp turn and talk of the page
than strain through the glare
of electrified screen pages.
Kneading the dough of the story
a warm loaf in the hands
rather than stretching cable to get
the just right tender angle at midnight.
Most of all I imagine my Mother or Father
reading to me, or me reading to the next
generation, as we fall asleep dreaming of
a game world, sugared with constellations.
