Numbers (an acrostic poem)

No matter how you calculated it, Deidre was in trouble

Unless she could find another way to figure it out

Many digits danced and twirled in front of her

But none of them sat still long enough for her to make them real

Everything was just irrational to her at that moment

Really she just wanted to be done and have a piece of pie

So she left the equation to solve itself and had dessert



Pi Day (an acrostic poem)

Preposterously important in all mathematical circles

Irrational, never repeating itself, but always quoted


Don’t hate on its fame

Anyone else it would go to their head

Yet it still gives its digits to anyone who asks