Twinkle

The fireflies come out at night
And burn their candle at both ends;
The message all this flashing sends
Is that they'd like to mate tonight;
And having self-indulged this rite,
They hope another fly attends
Who also on this hope depends
And so will mimic their first light.
Are we not like fireflies,
Who, darting glances to and fro,
Seek to meet a pair of eyes
That will reflect our own bright glow
And join with us, as they with theirs,
In burning bright our self-lit flares?