"Black," I said.
"As pitch," you finished.
"White," said I.
"As snow," said you.
When you lost the bet
you had to use only idioms
for the rest of the day.
I giggled every time.
We played hopscotch
just to pass the time
and chased the adventure
with actual scotch.
By the end of the night we were wasted
and your idioms took on
something of a ridiculous nature,
but I didn't notice, much.
You kissed me goodnight,
said, "Apples eat doctors,"
and threw and orange
into my lap.
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