Making Space
A
shiny worn spot is on my space bar
My
keyboard calls out to unseen friends or foes
I
would go see them by getting in my car
To
shake hands and listen to tales of joy and woes
Yet
I sit and answer them in typing
The
thought of calling even throws my balance
Anymore
it isn’t so much to my liking
Somehow
the face to face meeting is a challenge
Or
so I think and think too much
Running
from making dates
It
is only a lunch
Not
my ultimate fate
Perhaps
the space is necessary
To
be a well-worn groove
To
take friendship seriously
Making
real connections to prove
There
is a bond that will go on
What
have I to lose?
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