On Google Images, I type in face,
find more than you’d pass in a lifetime’s race
down the escalator at King’s Cross station,
or at the January sales on a bargain chase.
I opt for Winston Churchill’s,
select Add to Basket but the cigar
and his Homburg hat stop me
from proceeding to checkout.
So I click on Twiggy’s, make it my own,
wear it to work, empowered by the sparkle
of mascaraed eyes, long lashes,
discover that cute lips open doors.
Nestling in the corner of the monitor
I spy a lonely Dumbo, so I buy him
with my mouse, flap the jumbo ears,
delight in lift-off, fly and dive the sky.
Sam, out of Casablanca, nets instant
friends as I beam a shiny smile,
roll fingers around piano keys,
play it, play it one more time.
In need of bracing air, adrenaline rush,
I seek out the wooden snow goggles
of Captain Scott. As he stares back
from the South Pole, the screen freezes.
If you have any thoughts on this poem,
would be pleased to hear them.