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What are you waiting for?
I’m sure that I will always be a lonely number like root three.
The three is all that’s good and right, why must my three keep out of sight?
Beneath the 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’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321.
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality.
But wait! What is this I see? Another square root of a three.
As quietly walikng, passing me by, together now we multiply.
To form a number we prefer, rejoicing as an integer.
We break free from our mortal bonds with the wave of magic wands.
Our square root signs become unglued, for my love within has been renewed.
