Alice was having a nice time at the amusement park, until Gowland said he had something to show her. That was a bad sign 10 out of 10 times pretty much. Even worse yet, he wanted to show her something he made. The only things he ever made were chorals of hellish screeching that he deigned to call "music". She was tempted to immediately reject the offer for the sake of her hearing.
Ah, but he's using that old man puppy-dog face, the young woman thought to herself with an internal grimace. There was just no way for her to say no. She cursed herself for being soft and bit the bullet, asking "Oh? What do you want to show me?". Alice breathed out a sigh of relief when Gowland started rummaging through his jacket pockets, instead of going straight for his violin.
His hand comes back up, holding something crumpled and... stained? A piece of paper, maybe? Alice wasn't sure how to respond to the gift. "Oh Gowland, thank you for the... used napkin?" She bent her knees slightly, and moved her face closer to the paper in his hand to try to figure out what it was. Gowland laughed softly, and grabbed her arm to pull her back up.
"Nah, silly, it's a poem! Thought I'd try my hand at some romantic poetry for my gal! I had Boris help me write it to make sure it was good an' all. He seems to like it...I was hoping you'd like it too." He had a faint smile on his face as he opened the crumpled paper to read it one last time before handing it over, "S'not nothin' too fancy, but I worked real hard on it." Gowland looked back and forth from the paper to a very curious Alice before grabbing her hand to gently place the poem on her palm.
Alice delicately unfolded the dirty parchment, which read: "Roses are red/Leaves are greener/I think about you when I touch my wiener/Speaking of green/So is a dollar/Your pretty face makes me wanna holler"
She looks up to the blushing elder man, forcing a smile, "Thank you so much! It's a lovely sentiment, really." She gives him a "thank-you" peck on the cheek and promptly rips up and trashes the shit-writing when Gowland is out of sight. Boris's howling laughter is heard from miles off.