THE HEAT OF PASSION

It was firm like molded iron
And, as hot as it could be
Bringing droplets to the brow
Of the lovers don’t you see.

They were wrapped up in each other
On the blanket on the floor.
All wrapped up in each other,
With moisture oozing from each pore.

You can tell the heat had got them
Into this playful mood,
Where arms and legs entwine,
Like joints in crafted wood.

But it wasn’t his bold maleness,
Nor the beauty of her looks,
But the radiator set on high,
That made them really cook.