The Ping of my Zing

Dedicated to Madeline, Made for and Inspired by her.

I sent a ping upon the air,

The net has caught it,

And a spider of thought,

Heads for it as prey.

The ping is my core,

Calling another,

Searching and browsing,

For not a bother.

It hits a snag,

Though I mustn't brag.

It found a geek,

And boy is she sleek.

As she glows a bit red,

It might just be said,

That she is radiant with her smile,

Perhaps I'd like to cause it awhile?

My ping finds a target,

And returns to its source.

My core is alight about the similar ping,

For perhaps,

Who knows,

She might be my zing.