Tom Chattsworth

— a Free Writing

I type these words the best I can

While wishing punctuation

And all those other grammar rules

Were taking a vacation.

See, chatting on the Internet

Is what I like to do.

’Cause I can be most anyone,

And so of course can you.

I know I have to trust you when

You say you’re not a guy,

’Cause you could be of either sex,

And so of course could I.

But I am going to bet my life

That you are who you say.

See, I refuse to picture you

In any other way.

You will not know how short I am,

How out of style I dress,

And how you look and what you wear,

Well, I can only guess.

Or dream—now that’s a better word

Than guess could ever be,

For I can dream that you could love

A human mystery.

A mystery, that’s what I am

Here on the Internet.

And who I am and what I am

I’m able to forget.

For all the time I chat with you,

Those hours every night,

Are magic times. See, nothing’s wrong

When I am out of sight.

You’re right beside me in my room.

You’re talking just to me.

Our words make lovely photographs

That only lovers see.

Dawn Reader