Wednesday, September 14, 2011


I fear that I will always be a lonely number like root three
A three is all that's good and right,
why must my three keep out of sight
beneath a vicious square-root sign?
I wish instead I were a nine,
for nine could thwart this evil trick
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I will never see the sun
as 1,7321
Such is my reality,
a sad irrationality
When, hark, just what is this I see?
Another square-root of a three
has quietly come waltzing by together
Now we multiply to form a number
we prefer rejoicing as an integer
We break free from out mortal bonds
and with a wave of magic wands
our square-root sighs become unglued
and love for me has been renewed