AI has brought you back into our dream.

We’ll kiss your robot face until you scream.

It’s the only thing of measure

to resemble former pleasure.

It takes a village, or, in this case, team.

The wires which compose your fragile bones

do not seem out of place with your earphones.

The vocal microchip hidden neatly in your lip

can be set to many pitches, strengths and tones.

Just seeing you in silence sit and stare

gives grand illusion that you’re really there.

And those synthetic strings which pass as hair

remind us of your real self, once so fair.

They’ve warned us, though, your battery might die.

The signal is a flicker in the eye.

Will second life suffice, or must we pay the price

of bidding you eternally goodbye?