In the silent whispers of the night,
Her body spoke in a language so bright.
The warmth of her skin, a gentle delight,
A symphony of touch in the moonlight.

Her curves, a canvas of human art,
Each touch a brushstroke on her heart.
The softness of her form, a delicate part,
Of a masterpiece that love did start.

Fingers trace the lines of her grace,
In every moment, in every embrace.
Her body, a poem, a sacred space,
Where love finds its rightful place.

In her warmth, I find my home,
A place where my soul can freely roam.
The touch of her body, the sweetest poem,
Together, we are never alone.