FMS Pictures & Poetry

I never really heard Woodworm’s cell phone
Chime a brief pair of disconnected notes
That tell the receiver he’s not alone
But we still left that pub – put on our coats.
Convenient that you didn’t show up
And that, since then, you’ve sent no IMs here.
Perhaps that was Woodworm’s major hiccup –
That you don’t really exist is quite clear.
Yes, I’ve seen your poems posted online
And the sweet, female voice is convincing
But only when we all sit down and dine
(Myself, you, our friend and maybe the King)
Will I start to believe this little tale
That, like Woodworm, in the flesh you are real.