Bad Poetry Friday

I took a lot of notes while I was on jury duty. Most of those notes were stuff about the trial as it was going on. But in the interstices, like during the frequent sidebars at the bench or the fiddling with the AV equipment, I jotted down observances, homonyms, grocery lists, and the following two lines:

My daughter has a uniform.
She wears it every day.

I thought "it's the start of a poem"! So I gave to W., a once-upon-a-time poet, and said "finish this". Without batting an eyelash, he spouted out:

My daughter has a uniform.
She wears it every day.
This is lousy doggerel,
What else can I say?

I was impressed with the speed of his inanity.

Oh, and the kid? She does have a uniform. She wears the same denim overall dress day in and day out, including to bed. Yeah, she changes her shirt and tights/leggings, or her pajamas. But the dress? The dress is a constant. It's all I can do to get it off to be washed occasionally.