by Aaron Wolfe
There sometimes isn’t much to say,
But always much to feel;
When two lone figures come to play,
The heat is surely real.
Yet first the heat begins at glance,
A magnet there revealed;
So all begin to poke at chance,
Lest feelings be concealed.
Soon the sparks begin to shine,
Growing warmly under heel;
While chasing after all the signs,
To make a wholesome deal.