The Whirlwind

The onset:
A game played with looks,
With hooks, with nooks to rut,
To let for an escape, but there’s no rooks,
No, this game is not played on a board,
It’s an adventure, but there’s no horde,
There’s nothing but one cord,
A heartstring played in unison,
Harmoniously, the first dry run.
Second display:
Ignition into the part two,
Only to give a heart clue,
Mouth on mouth, a tart hue,
Taste of something to start anew,
A secret to keep very vague,
A secret to keep from a would be plague,
Stage three; Surrealism in life:
With all the silent rendezvous,
The hidden locations only brews,
The sneaking suspicion; what a ruse,
Muse to muse, nothing to lose…
But everything to gain,
No regrets, no pain,
Only a loss of sleep again,
And possibly a job slain.