Cyber-Sweethearts
by sloanranger
I have a Facebook cutey,
as sweet as she can be.
I tell her that I'm forty,
she says she's twenty three.
@bewithmeplease! is a delight,
I cannot understand,
why she'd spend her online nights
with this @houndogman.
We've known each other for a while
we speak most every night,
I tell her that I love her, she says,
one day, she might.
Her eyes are liquid brown,
her hair, a chestnut red;
we sit and talk about our lives
before we go to bed.
I think she talks to others, too,
at least it seems to me –
there's an awful lot of comments
underneath her feed.
Her icon sure is lovely,
a site-pic to behold;
I know she cares for me, though,
no matter what I'm told.
In fact, the pic is so good -
too good to be true.
I've asked her many times:
"Are you sure that pic is you?"
She says: "Don't be silly,
that is my hair and eyes."
"I'm just like you, @houndogman,
I'd never tell a lie."
Sometimes I don't hear from her,
for days and days on end;
she blames it all on Facebook,
"That site's gone nuts again."
"And by the way, you wonker,
I know what you're about.
I scrolled your page, saw you flirt,
you no good, Facebook lout."
@bewithmeplease!, you know
that, I'm really not a cad...
and I speak my love, untll I hear:
"Get your arse to bed."
