Shifa Unmet

Here is a poem, like all, off the cuff
That will detail my thoughts on a girl well enough
Who it happens, has stumbled across quite a find
And whose presence I feel is becoming entwined

Now the find that I speak of is friendship, ‘per se’
The ‘per se’ being that I won’t meet her, no way
I believe in my heart that for us there is only
A voice on a line, distant, tinny and lonely

So what can I tell you of her sight unseen
From a voice and a photo, now what can I glean
Well she says that she listens and is morally sound
From her own point of view, I think I’ve “been around”

Her voice is quite raspy from yelling at kiddies
And she’s mental from working with baby P. Diddies
Whose parents are no doubt retarded or boring
And meantime while kids play she’s silently scoring

The good things she’s done, like it matters at all
If you’re good, or you’re bad, or you’re perfect (like Paul)
Anyway now, where was I… oh she talks way too fast
By the time that you answer she’s gone on way past

What she asked you at first and must try to remember
If you answered in June she’d come back from November
And she’s not much on literature, reading or writing
I don’t think that she finds those pastimes that exciting

On the plus side she’s a good sort and mildly amusing
And I think that she finds parts of me quite confusing
Which I like, as no one wants to be easily read
Quickly summed, too well known, sucker punched in the head

So in summary, now, I must state with conviction
That she’s very much real, this girl’s no work of fiction
But I can’t see us dancing the long dance together
Still she might be a friend, good for all kinds of weather...