Copy of message sent to Mary this morning. Nothing original (I copied it from the Toronto Star) but it felt "right".
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Violets are blue,
Roses are red,
I'm glad that you
chose me instead...
... of some other guy, who isn't cool,
some ridiculous, drooling, half-witted tool,
who would treat you bad, and make you cry.
I'm glad you didn't pick that guy.
I'm glad that you chose my wit and charm,
and not some rube down on a farm,
who smells like manure, and isn't too bright,
and commits felonies every Saturday night.
But truly, I'm glad that you picked me,
because I know in reality,
you'd never end up with guys like those,
and I'm lucky to be the one you chose.
I love you.
Pierre
Roses are red,
I'm glad that you
chose me instead...
... of some other guy, who isn't cool,
some ridiculous, drooling, half-witted tool,
who would treat you bad, and make you cry.
I'm glad you didn't pick that guy.
I'm glad that you chose my wit and charm,
and not some rube down on a farm,
who smells like manure, and isn't too bright,
and commits felonies every Saturday night.
But truly, I'm glad that you picked me,
because I know in reality,
you'd never end up with guys like those,
and I'm lucky to be the one you chose.
I love you.
Pierre
