When Cyclops looks into the mirror,
She doesn’t quite like what she finds.
Her lips are pinched thin, and her brows look like sin,
‘Cause she’s only got one plus-sized eye.

She’s tried hats and scarves and hairpins.
She’s tried [i]everything[/i]—spared no expense.
And glasses appall; she hates them most of all,
'Cause she can’t find a pair with one lens!

Now just down the street from the Cyclops,
A Zombie lived all by himself.
He hollers and stumbles, and falters and bumbles,
He’s left his left foot on his shelf.

He can’t recall where he last saw it.
He’s checked all of his drawers and bins.
Now, all out of time, he sets out with a whine:
“Well, I guess I’ll just go with a limp.”

Our shy Cyclops likes to stay home, now.
She only leaves to get new books.
She turns her head down and she stares at the ground
And hopes no one makes fun of her looks.

Today, she decides that she’ll hurry.
The library's one block away.
Now, head tilted low, she treads into the snow
And with speedy haste, she makes her way.

The Zombie is just down the corner,
With foot gone, he’s feeling quite small.
And as she’s looking down, while he bumbles around,
They run into each other and fall.

“Oh Devil, I’m sorry!” he mutters,
“I didn’t quite know you were there!”
“It’s okay,” she replies, as she rubs at her eye,
“But your fingers are stuck in my hair.”

As they pluck out his broken digits,
He happens to glance at her eye.
She stammers and blushes at his gentle touches.
Cue Cupid, t’was love at first sight!

“I really don’t know what I’m saying,
“But I think you’re one fine-looking guy.
“So I guess I’ll impose, if you’re not indisposed,
“Would dinner at six be alright?”

The zombie could just barely say “Yes.”
Excitement restarted his heart.
“Well, heavens above, I’ll be falling in love,
“If you’re fine with me falling apart.”

Now sitting in snow, they're both blushing.
They laugh as they try to get up,
And lean on each other, and, chuckling, they wonder
How they could have found such good luck.