A Furtive Art

In twilight's tender grasp, where sentiments unfold, Subtle whispers of a woman, always untold. A dance of sighs and a symphony of grace, In the heart's alcove, there is a sacred space. Ephemeral hues are like petals in the breeze, Her desire's delicate touches are symphonies that appease. Silent echoes of passion are a furtive art, Binding souls together is never to depart. In the alchemy of moments, where emotions entwine, A treasure of feelings, intricate and divine. Whispers of longing in the moonlit night, A ballet of gestures, soft and light. Sublime vibrations in the soul's quiet grove, Where her passion's melody intertwines and roves. Unseen threads weaving dreams so sweet, In the tender realm, where four feet meet.