From the Long Lost Love of an Extreme Couponer

Roses are red;
Violets are violet;
I eat canned bread,
And you stockpile it.

I bought this ad space,
On your receipt—
I know it’s a place
Your keen eyes will fleet.

You were almost my wife,
Binder-wielding beauty,
But the love of my life,
Was—I thought—the sea.

So did I leave you,
Though my heart would ail.
Like me, naught would cleave you
From that temptress—the sale.

I’ve come back, regretting,
My shape (and ship) wrecked,
Like old coupons setting
In a dumpster unchecked.

To you, dear, I proffer,
My hopes never higher,
A special offer
(‘Twill never expire):

Together for good,
Till death do us part,
You raid what you would
From the aisles o’ my heart.

How happy we’d be,
With twin daughter and son—
Two babes on your knee,
For the price of one.

Roses are white;
Violets are not;
I need a bite,
And you overbought.

So please let us meet
And discuss this more.
To respond by receipt,
Call (866) 237-7884.