Poetry Here (Mostly)

FaceTime Looking Glass

Such a long distance between me and you,

wish I could climb in and continue through

to be on your side from here on the other,

sweet infant girl, I’m your new grandmother.

If I could sip Lewis Carroll’s potion,

perhaps I might swim in I-Phone’s ocean,

and stream along with invisible waves,

a Map ap to guide out of cyber caves.

If I avoid phone’s electric circuits,

my arrival there could be just perfect,

but must not forget what it takes to grow

or I will stay smaller than Chloe’s toe.

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