Do you like my short story that has a sort of rhyming pattern?

"Where is Kate?" thought Mrs Tate "she is very late for this date." It's ten to eight, should she wait or leave it to fate for her to meet Nate. She opened the gate then sat on a crate, in a bit of a state as her teeth did grate, Will she exonerate if she brings a plate that will sate the new guys' palate?

He was a good mate, that guy named Nate, for her daughter called Kate. A man who was straight, danced with a gyrate, and could also skate. She had a bit of weight, but did highly rate, even though was often late. There is much to deliberate when arranging a date, using food as a bait.

The clock chimed eight and just arrived is Nate, He walked through the gate, past the crate, as Mrs Tate stood up and greeted Nate. There was not a sign of Kate, she was late!

Look, here comes Kate! Sorry to be late. But she did bring a plate. And they all sat down and ate.