As a cloud of sweat I sprawled above,
writing poems inside her with all my love.
Looking down I saw her face as a full moon,
and her lips resembled a crescent moon.
Even in pain, with a smile of content she gasped,
often with all her love my right thigh was clasped.
Night flowed; as her fingers swirled through my hair,
by evading blinking, deep into her eyes I did stare.
In the lustre of sunrise we both saw our bed
in the colour of sunset, by the virginity she shed.