In a dimly lit room, two friends engage,
Limmit, the poet, and Xyz, the inquisitive sage,
With math before them, a train on the line,
85 miles per hour, their thoughts intertwine.
Limmit, the dreamer, leans back in his chair,
“I don’t know about 85,” he says, with a flair,
“But if it raced at 85.57395, my dear friend,
it’d find in uncertainty, a strange end.”
Xyz, the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow high,
“Limmit, my friend, let’s not reach for the sky.
Heisenberg and trains, they’re an odd pair to me,
Let’s stick to the numbers and clear theory.”
Limmit, with a chuckle, adjusts his beret,
“Math is like poetry, it can often sway,
But here’s the equation, let’s give it a try,
To find where that train is as it rushes by.”
They dive into numbers, equations unfold,
Their thoughts dance like stories, both daring and bold,
As the train races onward, through valleys and dales,
Limmit and Xyz, are both set to unveil.
With calculations and laughter, the night marches on,
Two friends at the moment, their worries all gone,
In math and in poetry, they find common ground,
In the dialog of friendship, their solutions are found.
WoPoLi 
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