Maud cleared her throat. “Ahem.

“Rocks are gray, like my heart.
They're hard and cold. Life must depart.
Within the pond that is life,
I sink amongst the pain and strife.
Rocks are still, like my blood.
Forever lost amongst the mud.”

“Oh, no no no, dear.” Floral shook her head. “I said, 'happy and sunny.' Um, perhaps you didn't hear me well enough the first time? Perhaps you'd like to give it another go?”

“Rock. You are gray.
Rock. You must stay.
Rock. Each and every day.
Rock. Does not decay.
Rock. It's in my way.
I moved it.
I took its place.
And now I am gray. It's how I stay, each day. How I wish I could decay, but I can't. It's not my way.
I am rock.”

“That's...” Floral trailed off with her jaw agape.

“Should I recite another?”

“Do you have any that aren't about rocks?”

“They're all about rocks.”

“Uh, well, at least they rhymed, right?” Floral grinned sheepishly.

“Most of my poetry doesn't rhyme. How about this one?

“Solitary rock.
It's within my bowl.
Gray granite.
It's within my soup.
Unbreakable stone.
It's on my spoon.
Igneous lump.
It's crunchy.”

“I... You know what? On second thought, I don't need students that badly. Why don't you go pick a different subject, hmm?”

Drat.

Start over?