I always knew that you were nice,
since the night we met, rolling dice.
Soon, I saw you were intelligent and cool,
from the first and many shots of pool.
You told me of a haggis birthday,
and pronouncing “Edinburgh” the right way.
Scotland meant so much to me,
which you read alongside each **sip of whiskey**.
The ice cream and stout at Thimble Island’s bar.
And the story of my forehead’s scar.
If you leave New Haven, I won’t be sad.
Because, somehow, somewhere, you’re still rad.
May the composition of your necklace stay perfect.
Keep on striving Danielle, I know it’s worth it.
Your viral smiles have done much for me,
alongside some southern hospitality.