Imaginary Numbers 

I crafted a new set of imaginary numbers; tough times demand new tools.

I call them "u" - a derivative of the indispensable imaginary number "i."

U are prime, natural, whole, and divisible only by one.

Small u are B flat minor; large u are C major.

Young u smell reminiscent of butterscotch, are maroon, leathery.

Mature u have a faint scent of caraway, are chartreuse, squishy.

U are handy. While i allowed solid-state electronics, u can build picnic tables.

U can quantify justice and amortize love.

U can derive wisdom's quadratic mean.

U can calculate the logarithmic properties of revenge, fear, indifference.

Done carefully, u can convert human years to carbon years.

But alas, u are rare as banana seeds.

In the periodic table of numbers, u sit alone near the floor, fleeting.

We need u; we count on u; without u hydrogen bonds would be weak, brittle.

Infinity would be but a half-life.