Day 11: I don’t know why, but I really like the number 11. I see it everywhere; I like its symmetry, its simplicity, its binaryness (I can invent words if I like).
So here’s a si11y poem in honour of the number 11.
And yes, there are 11 syllables in its title and each of its 11 lines.
I’d love to hear from you in the comments box.
A simple celebration of eleven
Eleven a.m. is time enough to wake
on Saturdays, cosy in bed, luxury:
no work, in perfect time for elevenses,
coffee, croissants, and other delicacies
ease me into the light, the day, the weekend;
you can keep your cricket first eleven team,
your eleven swans a-swimming at Christmas.
So what if ten plus one equals eleven
or if November is the eleventh month?
Big yahoo, eleven is a prime number.
Eleven a.m. wake-up call: now that’s bliss.
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