A poem for a geek

I’m sure that I will always be, a lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right, why must my three keep out of sight

Beneath the vicious square root sign, I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick, with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see, another square root of three
As quietly co-waltzing by, together now we multiply

To form a number we prefer, rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds, with the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued. Your love for me has been renewed

-David Feinberg