Rivers, banks and trees, All have types of me If my third letter was autocorrected I'd be a meal between lunch and breakfast

I can be wooden, or metal strong, I hold things together, all day long, A picture's place, or a window's seat, I'm the border, that keeps things neat.

I speak in ink and shout in bold, yet grow outdated before day grows old.

I'm the whisper on the pages, my tales never fade, Crafted from letters, my magic is made. In libraries and on lips, I'm the what and the how, Heck, I'm the thing you're trying to guess right now.

You have one in friend groups when deciding what to eat. You have one, of confidence, in the face of defeat. You have one to choose the nation’s leaders. Paper, or digital. We hope there are no cheaters.