A sonnet dedicated to the newest member of the Apple family (apologies to The Bard):
Dearest iPhone 5,
Shall I compare thee to an iPhone 4S?
Thou art more lovely but made of the same tempered glass (cut 1 of 725 unique ways):
Rough winds could shake thee darling away (since you are 30 percent thinner),
Summer’s lease hath all too long a wait (for the release date):
Still you are a hot commodity and the eye of heaven shines upon you,
And oft’ is your gold complexion framed by billboards in the skies;
And ever iPhone from iPhone sometime declines,
By chance or the Kate Spade changing cases untrimm’d;
But thy trending popularity shall not fade
Nor lose possession of the smallest SIM card thou owest (since your Nano-SIM card is 44 percent smaller than a Micro-SIM card);
Nor shall iPhone 5S or iPhone 6 brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest (even though new phones may have finer lines):
So long as men can snap, or eyes can blink,
So long lives this, and gives battery life to thee.
Feel like waxing poetic on this or any other piece of technology?