Did you ever wonder what happens when math teachers try to write poetry? Wonder no more!
isn’t my lucky number.
Seven is complicated, undisciplined, impossible to predict.
Now ten, ten is mannerly and meek,
Sweet home-schooled child of the number family.
Ten perches properly in his seat, with one hand aloft,
Patiently waiting for you to take notice.
Ten slides into a sum,
doesn’t dally in a difference,
Produces perfect products
Quickly and quietly forms a quotient
Why, you may even raise 10 to a power,
He’ll courteously comply!
But 7, o 7.
Wily, unruly seven,
sore thumb to sums
difficulty of differences
persnickety product producer
quarrelsome in quotients.
No, 7’s not my lucky number.