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Chatting

A view of the mysterious world of on line chatting


She doesn’t know my hair is thinning

or see the wrinkles around my eyes

or that my beard needs trimming,

and I wonder does she realize

while we sit here in our rooms and chat,

our fingers clicking on the keys

forming words, expressing this and that,

not knowing if we’re going to tease,

not knowing if we’ll reach through space

and in that world above the world,

imagining each other’s face,

touch and have our passion twirled

like string, our fingers pulling tight,

pulling at each other’s minds,

wondering if we’re wrong or right

to follow who our chatting finds.

And I wonder what she’s wearing.

Is she in a robe or some old shirt?

And does she like this time we’re sharing

or is she here to play and flirt?

And does she find my words alluring

as she’s looking at the screen,

each sentence going off exploring

though I wonder what they mean.

And I watch her words appearing,

and smile at what’s she’s saying,

And though it’s with my eyes I’m hearing,

I like the sassy way she’s playing.

She doesn’t know I’m drinking wine

when I send my cool words back.

And I wonder if she likes my line,

or if our posing ways will crack.

And I wonder what her life is like

as our fingers talk and somehow reach

inside the other’s hearts to strike

a chord that transcends speech.

And suddenly we’re asking more

as our fascination grows.

And our hearts begin to pour

as our sudden caring shows.

And it doesn’t matter what we’re wearing

as we sit in our distant rooms.

It only matters what we’re sharing

and what the other one assumes.

And somehow as we reach through space

and with our words we touch and kiss,

imagining each other’s face

and hope we’re finding bliss.

Who knows where this chat will end

when we disappear from the screen?

Will we become each others friend--

lovers in this world between,

living in this atmosphere,

never knowing where we are,

or will we both just disappear

and fade like a falling star?

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