True Art

She slowly started to get undressed
Her body ached for his gentle crease
His unhurried decent between her thighs
He passionately looks into her eyes
In his rhythm her hips start to rise
As he softly starts to slide
She loves the motion of the glide
Silent is their passion cries
Their body's mirrored every move
They were in the movement of loves perfect grove
They kept perfect time and rhythm
An explosive climax was a given
Exhausted and satisfied they laid in each others arms
Him just admiring her womanly charms
As she snuggled up and whispered, "babe that couldn't register on any flow chart"
"For that my love, was true art"