[Ah... Not even three glasses of boxed wine can stop her absolute mirth over his incomplete poem from reaching him. This is why he doesn't show anyone his poetry!! This right here!

He has enough pride left to sniff smugly as he looks down at his poem again and the telltale blush of wine and shame creeps up from his neck. So regrettable, everyone is a critic...]

It is— a process. It takes longer than an afternoon to come up with something truly poetic, you know.

[That said, oho, listen to this great new idea:] Why don't you write your own? We'll make a friendly competition out of it.