I write this poem and send it across the white
nonexistent pages on a screen of tiny pixels,
and wonder what causes it to remain while
a grayish color followed by a scene appears,
and I am asking, “Where does it go when…?”
I vigorously tap the “enter” key and watch while
it floats into the nebulous world of the WWW,
only to reappear far away on a small computer,
legible and clear, in India, Malta, the Isle of Man.
Marvel not that your words came to me here,
showing themselves a world away from fingers
that firmly typed them lovingly into nothingness.
written December 23, 2021
Copyright © L MILTON HANKINS | Year Posted 2021
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