For my second act (of the acts you seemed to most enjoy from the first 100 days—see day 107), I gave you a white rose. You certainly enjoy your weekly flowers, but you’ve come to expect them (which isn’t a bad thing). So I wanted to surprise you by bringing you a flower I don’t usually bring on a day you don’t usually get flowers.
With the rose, I wanted to give you a line of poetry written by me (which is something I haven’t done before through 365). Nothing big, just a single line of poetry. I spent a bit of time while doing chores trying to think of something nice, something elegant. I’m definitely not a poet, so I wasn’t expecting Pushkin-quality writing. But everything I came up with smacked of sappiness. So, I started over and embraced and even exaggerated the sappiness. Here’s what I gave you:
Less beautiful is this here rose,
Than either of your little toes,
And when I look upon your knee,
I’m filled with rapture and with glee,
No elbows found in all the land,
Are finer, neater, or more grand,
And if one looks upon your chin,
His adoration does begin,
No man nor child would hesitate,
Your uvula to adulate,
No waterscape with moonlit sand,
Could rival your pineal gland,
Your ears do strike each passerby
As prettier than earth and sky,
So all in all, you see, my dear,
You’re beautiful from toe to ear.
PS: Perhaps the world’s not ready for my poetic genius.