With our little bean rings,
those strange little things,
we make a promise of love.
Not unlike “The Rings”,
those wedding things,
Just without the extra

The little bean rings we wrapped around our fingers. Those little strange things, although gone, still linger. Well, perhaps not the bean but

I never knew,
How much a bean,
Could mean to a guy like me.
But then one day,
I saw you there,
In the midst of Batman Alley.

Little bean rings,
Why wear such things?

Well I’ll tell right now, so listen.

When a boy meets a girl,
One he loves

Little bean rings, one of our strange little things, one of many I guess I’d say.

I’ve tried all I can to write a poem about beans. Okay well not about beans exactly, but rather rings made out of beans. Well actually they were made out of strings beans, but that’s not the point. The point is I’m trying to write this poem. So here I am thinking about little bean rings and how much I love this girl and that’s when it hits me, that’s when I realize

Two string beans, grow up to be rings, what an odd life for such a plant.

I love you