**I and some of my friends were challenged to write a poem and the only rule was that it had to involve pudding. I present to you a tragic story of love never fulfilled...make sure you have some tissues handy.**

'Twas April, and love
With the flowers was blooming.
And so in the cool evening air of spring,
He fell to his knees and offered a ring
With nary a thought of the pudding.

"Marry, me darling!"
He clasped her hand to his heart.
But she turned from him, that maiden fair
And through the curtain of her hair
Said, "I can not...because of the pudding."

"The pudding?!" cried he
And let go of her hand in astonishment.
So with a tear in her lovely eye,
She explained to him the reason why
They could not wed because of the pudding.

"Thou hast made it clear
That thou never didst care for it.
I love the pudding, canst thou not see?
We never could be happy, we three
For thou dost not like pudding."

"Must thou break my heart so?"
He implored, so pitifully.
"I tried to like pudding, for thy sake, I did!
It did not agree with me and made me quite sick.
Dost thou remember how ill I was, because of the pudding?"

"I do remember, love!
And it doth break my heart too,
For though 'tis true it maketh thee sick, lo!
A thousand such suitors may come and go,
But my first loyalty is still to the pudding."

"I cannot live without thee!"
He cried, and she cried also.
Hearts torn, they went their melancholy ways.
She heard of his death the very next day.
'Twas by his own hand; he'd taken two helpings of pudding.

Inconsolable, the maid
Despaired, and nevermore was joyful.
Though she lived long, she never was wed.
Every night, silent tears she did shed,
And she lost all her love for the pudding.