Before the Box
by The Poetess (SRP)

I’m sitting before the box, for nothing else to do,
At half past one o’clock! I must be nearly through.

And who are we? I honestly do not know,
Just words on a screen that we dare show
Do we carry the fantasy of a new friend

Who truly cares for our sonnets penned?
If I stopped writing dozens of reviews
Would I ever hear from any of you?

Many of these authors have no face.
Who are they? I sometimes wonder.
Can a real friendship grow in a box?
Just another thing to ponder.

Wish I could do readings without being stalked
Or peacefully roam forests I used to walk.
But I’m still sitting before this box!