It’s all His hand, it’s His idea:
He tells me the joys you share,
Calls on me when you shed tears.
You know my friend,
Maybe we shall pretend?
No need to hear my voice,
Or to see my eyes,
When you see them brown,
The light sees them shine.
My comments will tell,
Whom and what I like
My pictures will show,
Who and what I am.
No need to feel my presence;
You now know my charm.
Ever seen you? Heard of you?
Watched you grow through pictures,
When you ask: ever met before?
My, sure, in caricature
Virtually he suggested
You as my friend,
Intrigued me by
The cello in your hands.
On our own,
Maybe we would‘ve met,
Maybe stared at a painting
On a wall,
In an Art museum like we use to,
Like we use to wonder,
Who is that boy, who is that girl?
In the picture, what is in her?
Now Facebook tells you
She is whom you see,
He is whom you should seek
The friend you will never be,
For an added name on your list.
