'baptism of Desire
The wind whipped the canvas tarp,
rain pricked the pavilion with the
accuracy of a Master Archer,
weak seams were laid wide.
Upon bodies warm and wet with loving,
teardrops fell, a baptism of desire cleansed
spirits too long lost to the pleasures of the flesh.
Wind chimes rang like church bells hearkening
atonement while in the womb-like blackness,
filled with pheromones of passion and marked
with a plethora of moans, the lovers lay.
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