Rhyme and Relative Satisfaction in Pace

There's a man of bowtie in lore

Whose timeline is never in order,

The oncoming storm,

And might I inform,

Bananas he does sincerely adore.

...

With that box he zooms and flies

Through stars and galaxies and skies.

Its inside astounds,

On arrival, it sounds

Like great, big elephant sighs.

...

His manner can be quite imperious,

Especially when he's being serious.

He will announce

When you do mispronounce

Raxacoricofallapatorius.

...

In terms of wardrobe, his takes some bravery,

Specifically, when involving decorative celery.

A question mark vest

Or a rainbow coat is best

When describing the Doctor's unique choices of finery.

...

But, fear not, he's not crazy.

Well, that might be more of a maybe.

Though he'd hardly object,

He might be upset

If you do not accept a jelly baby.

...

Wandering solo isn't his style.

He'd like a hand to hold for every mile,

Plucky companions

Whose fresh reactions

Do make traveling worthwhile.

...

It's been said the Doctor shows a better way to live,

Not through advice, but that he'll surely give.

Remember to think.

Don't even blink.

Although, running isn't a bad alternative.

...

Even so, being near him isn't easy.

Behind most wonders lurks an enemy,

Daleks of every shade

Or Judoon on a raid,

But he'll take your hand and shout, "Allons-y!"

...

You see, the Doctor's experienced with things like this.

With those brainy specs, he's not prone to miss

A perception filter,

Something else off-kilter.

With his sonic screwdriver, he'll gladly assist.

...

After thwarting the villain with his smarts,

In his big, blue box, he always departs.

After nine hundred years

And the joy, grief, and tears,

He's still a child at hearts.

...

For at the end of the day,

Or the beginning, hard to say,

The Doctor likes fun

And especially to run.

Back to the TARDIS, maybe this time, Norway?