So lost in thoughts of love was I
oblivion’s pho-monastic
But for a friend
and his keen, watchful eye
I’d of thought you made of plastic

Still all a glitter in noonday light
you lay upon the sand
We pondered not
nor with any foresight
for you beyond our Instagram

Oh strange blue thing from depths unknown
and forgive this imposition
If I and I
must forever atone
Let be by God’s requisition