Lines written for #FromOneLine prompt 274
I know it’s strange,
How glances across streets
And chance meetings
In crowded hallways,
A picnic in the groves
Or a hike in the hills
Is not how we find love
These wistful days.
We let algorithms match us
In a digital space,
And all that matters
Are the resulting scores
In the closest perimeter.
Blue Pen Strokes 
Loved it. Good to read your poetry again.
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