Drenched in desire, lovely the hours
Flit away, exquisitely sped.
An umbral, knightly presence looms – towers
Like memory, over the bed.

Emblazoned with eros, swallowing dread,
Warm hands scurry beneath a skirt.
Words of lust bloom brightly as they are said:
“Be still, love, this one's gonna hurt.”

Melodic voices soaring sing and flirt,
High now, on the pleasure of one,
Lost to urgency, playing in the dirt,
Reveling in the art of fun...

Stepped in love gone cold, captured in its grace,
Bound with gold, and sealed with lace.