Love Song

It isn't much, just a little bit of a thing
Thin and wooden, a bit of a hot head
At best, and at worst

A stick in the mud.  Still, rubbed
The wrong way, it makes a beautiful
Spark, and dances seductively

As it sings in the dark.  Oh,
What a courtship!  These lovers
Will not be parted, lest in the instant

The magic goes, leaving only
A bit of sulphur, a charred black stump
and a blue afterglow.