Pi
This hour we find is sleepy and slight
Withdrawn from our mortal working hours
In the dust with my necktie and your pigtails
3.142 and so on
Make steeples of your slender digits
Stay the coil of your little shuffle
Well dance a little dance in your circle
While I cook us something to eat
In a low voice I suggest 3.1416
It’s enough to disgust the both of us
For the rest of your eternity
Today is the first day in the rest of pi
A closed curve bounding you and I to exist
3.14 and so on