A more correct Ode

Fine. One of you readers, and I will not name names, but her initials are Laura Kay Beesley Ferguson, called me out on my Ode. She is correct, it wasn't really an ode, more a rambling of my current fetish with our central air. In retaliation, I have indeed written a more correct ode (I was an English major after all, might as well get some use out of it). It amused me while I sat in front of a fabulously cold air vent and killed some time while the kids watched "The Bee Movie". Here are the results of my boredom (because why would I use said quiet time for cleaning? That would be ridiculous and more to the point, less annoying to all of you, my public). If you do not appreciate my poetry, well, tough. You should know by now that I am a firm believer in writing the random.

Ode to Central Air
Do not let it be said,
that I can not write a rhyme
I am not ill-read
was just pressed for time.
However it seems that I must confess
My ode to central air was not,
Merely some prose I used to brag.
But now is the time I truly am blessed
For my rhyming skills aren't shot
My ode is in the bag.

Oh beautiful Air
cold, crisp and soothing
the way it flutters my hair
just simply by moving.
I will not deny I hate being overheated
so this central air invention
is my one true summer delight.
My hair, which right now, is not being treated,
and all of my summer intentions
freeze in the air, which is quite alright.

I love you, I love you
It's true, not a line
Central Air BTU's
Give me shivers up my spine.
The heat you diminish
No sweat pouring down to my seat
No swollen doors, no musty reek.
And now I can finish
with my Ode now complete
No longer a slacker, but seriously, a geek.