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When your lover's name is a pun;
A play of words and myth is done,
Let's say that it does quite lead
To cases that make me wheeze.
On a bright Sunday, we sat on the couch
With nothing in hand, we could only slouch.
"Let's eat at Blue Diner?" he shone his teeth,
"Very well, that sounds quite neat."
He donned his blue suit, a pink tie in view.
I put on mine, a deep red in hue.
With the colors we chose, we contrast on the wheel
But purple's a lovely shade, you get the deal?
For not so long, we were dressed and ready
Like the lawyers we are, we were quite nifty.
"Your law-suit's a bit crumpled, Miles."
"My what's a bit crumpled, Wright...?"
My clothing is where he looked,
My standards for ironing, overlooked.
"Because of this glaring foolishness,"
"I say you're guilty of incompetence!"
"For your crime, you must be punished."
"In the bedroom, you'll be forced to iron!"
"Oh, the defense shall hear my 'Objection!',"
"May the court just give me a second!"
We both striked our poses like we were in court,
But we laughed to no end, like we're there no more.
I hurriedly obliged to the court's order
To the bedroom I go where I'm to iron.
"Now, ready to er-go on our date?"
"We're turn-about to miss the diner's gate!"
And that's just one of my days of fun
When your lover's name is a pun.