She writes me poems
And sings to me.
She talks forever
About nothing at all.
She's corny and complicates,
Mushy and simple.
Perhaps damaged,
But she'd never know.
She curlers her hair
And puts on make-up.
She kept coming to my door,
And I kept answering.
She found me,
Alone and wanting.
Sent from somewhere
She knows not why.
She's a companion
Seeker
Wandering with me.
She makes me, oddly, happy.