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Poem

Not a tedious night in December,
our kisses, like fire, burn forever;
there may be no stars,
no warm, scented breezes...
only the whitest snowflakes
falling before our erotic eyes. 


Underneath these transparent sheets,
silence can hear our fast heartbeats;
the window is shut,
but the view is hot
as trees gleam in the thick snow,
and a lonely shallow
stays behind to watch
winter's beauty unfold 'till March. 


We consume our desire
with sensual touches;
and as midnight approaches
and the weather gets colder,
we encroach on this bed as the leaves of a vine...
expressing our passionate thoughts
in the loveliness of dim lights around us,
and moaning from pleasure, we scream and entwine. 


Not a tedious night in December
as the last bird fills the snowy air with springtime harmony,
nothing could be so joyful and tender;
the streets below are the picture of serenity,
and in this room two lovers explore new ways of ecstasy...
dreaming of more nights that would last forever.

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