It’s ‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ I see
whenever I log on to so called Twitter;
the next door neighbour’s all but given up on me,
he’s what they’d call in cricket a big hitter.

‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ had plagued me
since the day that I first set up my accounts;
no time – or need – to share, conspiratorially,
as my days were full of love, such large amounts.

‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ I still see,
as I’m out of dross, and exotic adventures;
no clout, nor ‘social’ influence for me –
yet I saw both Mom and Dad through their dementias…

‘0 Following, 0 Followers’, unremitting,
as the silence and the longing cut you through;
it’s not as if it’s ‘just’ two parents that I’m missing;
in them I lost two friends (two children, too).

‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ pursues me
as my world spins ever down, then drops, then crashes
when the site I’d picked, where they’d met, in the Fifties,
writes to tell me ‘No, you can’t scatter their ashes’.

‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ stares at me
as I get up, make my own third pot of tea;
I still pour three cups, all filled in loving memory,
no sleep for me till well gone half past three.

So it’s ‘0 Following, 0 Followers’ forever,
as far as I’m concerned; it’s froth and foam
that no one finds me fashionable or clever,
my only wish would be…to have them home