(from The Poet and the Mathematician)

In the hallowed halls of knowledge’s domain,
Limmit, a youth, his dreams aflame,
Striving through college, the path he walked,
With words kept time, poetry ticked like a clock.

Each verse he crafted, a soulful dive,
A window to his spirit, his heart alive,
Emotions cascaded in poetic streams,
His innermost thoughts, the stuff of dreams.

But one soul, one presence, a radiant sun,
Professor Nan Figger, where his heart was won,
A mathematician’s brilliance, a luminous sight,
Her aura enchanting, a guiding light.

In the back row, he chose to reside,
Not for distance, but the view, beside,
For her mathematical wizardry did amaze,
Yet deeper, her grace in myriad ways.

Her eyes, like stars in night’s embrace,
Sparkled, delving into equations’ grace,
Limmit, entranced, by her wisdom’s gleam,
Weaved poems that danced in the realm of dream.

From sonnets that praised her equations’ grace,
To haikus capturing moments, a secret place,
He penned his love in numbers’ embrace,
A silent devotion, a hidden trace.

As days gave way to weeks, then months anew,
Limmit’s collection of poems only grew,
A testament to love in its silent bloom,
In the heart’s library, a secret room.

Yet love, unspoken, a secret held,
In the verses penned, in the stories quelled,
For fear of rejection, the truth concealed,
In the realm of equations, their hearts revealed.

Oh, Limmit, young and passionate heart,
With your words, you painted a secret art,
In the hush of your verses, love’s whispers sewn,
In Professor Figger’s heart, your secret is known.