Looking back into the annals (heh heh...annals...) of time, @damianjayclay grabbed another unintendedpoetry gem from the backscroll of The Writer's Block.
Ok, gem is a bit of a reach here. But seeing as how this dialogue-turned-poetry came from me, it's about the best you can expect.
The Sound of Love
If only farts could be regarded
as expressions of love.
'My gas bags are full
with my love for you'
braaaaap
Sometimes I give myself
three farts in the morning.
When my wife is not there.
Image from Pexels