Disclaimer: I don't own my own computer, let alone Harry Potter.
Author's Note: This is a sister story to I Am Afraid of Dr. Seuss. I got a few requests and figured, what the heck, I don't have anything better to do. This will plot-less and won't beat the original, but if you'll read it I'll write it.
James Potter looked down at his assignment sheet. Ever since the 'Flying Bedpan' fiasco, McGonagal had given up on giving him practical detentions.
I would think she'd be happy, I was using them to practice for Quidditich, after all.
Despite all of James's protests, he had landed himself with a so-called "Self-reflective" detention. Now, he had to write an essay entitled "The Little Things That Make My Day".
Quidditich was what had got him into this mess, and McGonagal had expressly forbidden him to write about it. Writing about pranks would be like turning in a signed confession for all the misdeeds he and his friends had not been punished for. He briefly considered writing about making remarks to teachers that stopped them in the middle of a lecture and caused them to look at him like he was another life form but decided not to.
After all, I wouldn't want to brag until I did something really note-worthy, getting Binns to crack for example.
He glanced up at the clock. McGonagal said that he would be there until his essay was done. Running his left hand through his hair for what seemed to be the thousandth time that night, he finally stumbled upon an idea.
Forty minutes later, he looked down at his finished paper. It was a poem, a brilliant one if he did say so himself. He re-read it once to make sure it was exactly right and then laid it on McGonagal's desk
Violets are blue,
Roses are red,
just like the tuft,
on dear Lily's head.
Carrots are orange,
Pickles are green,
like dear Lily's eyes,
or a shiny green bean.
China is dainty,
Doilies are too,
like dear Lily's feet
that live in her shoe.
Shoestrings make loops,
as does a plane,
and Lily's writing
when she signs her name.
A frogs freckled face
cannot compare
with dear Lily's head
and the dots that live there.
Dear Lily's hand
that she slaps me with
reminds me of braches
when the trees shift.
Her teeth are like pearls,
gems of the sea,
or rows of gold corn,
when she laughs at me.
And so my dear Lily,
In all of these ways,
you light up by life
and brighten my days.
