Alice & Bob: A photon love story

“I can't wait for fate,” a professor in Innsbruck said,
and so he took some of his hardest books and read.
Then he shone his laser beam at a piece of Beta Barium Borate
the result of which was something you might call a first date.

You see, two of the photons had gotten all tangled up,
our professor found when he had his photos blown up;
he said “you can be A for Alice and B, that's Bob”.

It was something, clearly,
as they began to miss each other quite dearly.
When you are small, expanding space
can be quite a lonely place.

So late at night you might hear
one little piece of light cry:

“Come back Bobbie, I miss you dear,
it's always dark without you near,” or
“Alice, darling, please come home;
I can't light this world up all on my own.”

I can't wait for fate, just like our professor says
and I would like to get entangled myself one of these days.
I don't have a laser; I don't have a lab,
but I do know some QM so I'll have a stab
at finding somebody with whom I may twirl
and do all that fun stuff when our clothes we've hurled.

And though I expect one day there'll be a goodbye kiss
it's still always nice to have someone to miss
and back in the office when I'm doing my job
I'll be thinking of Alice, I'll be thinking of Bob.

Theirs is a story like many I know,
of gifted young friends with so far to go.
How can love be expected to last when
two little guys are moving so fast?

And late at night I sometimes hear
one little piece of light cry:

“Come back Bobbie, I miss you dear,
it's always dark without you near,” or
“Alice, darling, please come home;
I can't light this world up all on my own.”