Furtive Love

. moon-darkened night, fluttering fronds above, quivering streaks of light, of tapering shadows on anxious thrill, on nervous joy. ah, freedom so elusive, there, smooth, wet sand, yonder, mossy driftwood, here, hidden scene, we can clearly see without being seen. stealthily, ebb tide kisses our sandy, naked feet, but why the stealth? why be reluctant? why be furtive before the naked truth? is this passion a fugitive? a despicable outcast so hideous that the glow of its flame must hide, languish and die out here in the dark? .