Math-Love

My love is good at math, is she;
She got an A of high degree.
She’s always adding her to me,
Though we’re a total none can see.

We are a sum of inner sun,
Of secret ways and Yays!;
The total, it must weigh a ton,
Though light I us it stays.

Division is a simple thing—
We don’t divide at all!
We multiply the songs we sing
Till piles of them grow tall!

Subtraction’s her par excellence’
For, when I kiss her twice,
She takes two back, with nonchalance,
Then one more–fierce!–for thrice!

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