Monday, January 16, 2012

Digital Poet

by P.B.

Words dancing like ballerinas on toe.

Body parts mingling in graceful movements.

This is our own private show.

Letters twist into sweet nothings.

Painting pictures with the stroke of a keyboard.

Questions turn to answers turn to marvelous somethings.

Through a vast pit of data I've found you.

Your words courted and wooed me.

A hidden face with a soul to look to.

So now I wait for your return.

From my dreams to appear before my eyes.

All the while, my curiosities churn.

Appear before me sweet modern poet.

Grace me with your elegant language.

My body craves it and my eyes show it.

1 comment:

  1. wow. what a great, interesting poem. kudos!


    r. welch