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."