Tender and blessed

Each tender, blesséd moment shows the great
And good a secret drifting through the air;
The trees are black against the sky; it’s late,
But it is not too late - let her declare
A midnight sky is commonplace; magic
Is never conjured just by a full moon;
She needs to feel the passion – let sir prick
Her perfumed need and let him prick her soon;
She wants to drink in moonlight and desire:
A further draft to drench her gasping throat
And, then, the stomach’s pit that he’d admire
Before he presses in and looks to coat
Her tender sex with blesséd seed to make
A secret, moonlit girl the sweetest mate