Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

Dear GP,

I have come up with a poem in honor of your date on Friday:

There once was a girl in high school.
She was so cool.

Her Senior year was going well,
When her friends decided to to upgrade it to swell.

They begged her and begged her to go on a date.
She said "No." But they said, "You will, at any rate."

They called their friends and found her a boy.
They said he was great and would sure bring her joy.

She looked for him on facebook, and found her old friend.
Could this be her date? Her nerves were on end.

The day finally came, there was no backing down.
But before the dance, she headed up town.

In Logan she wondered about how her night would be.
She couldn't focus on the task at hand, but continuously had to pee.

Her friend told her to chill
She said, "I feel ill."

So they left Logan, just hours away from the fateful date.
They drove fast so she wouldn't be late.

At home she found she wasn't nervous after all.
She was only peeing from that empty water bottle.

Dressed as a cowgirl, she headed off to meet him.
Her friend told her the boy had a great grin.

At 7:04 she saw him for the first time.
"What was your name?" she asked. "Was it Blain? Was it Styme?"

"Why no," he retorts, "Those are not right!"
"My name is Jake, and it's nice to meet you tonight."

The night was bliss. "Can I meet you again?"
"Do you want my number? Here's a pen."

And the rest is history.