SYMPHONY OF PASSION

SYMPHONY OF PASSION


They say nothing can match-making love,
That none can be as beautiful.
But if you listen with your soul,
You can hear the symphony of passion...

The pitter-patter of rain falls,
Lovers hearts gently thump,
As they gaze into each other's eyes,
they find the music to their hearts.

Hands gently caress the bodice,
As the bow caresses the strings of a violin.
He plucks the strings of her passion,
She hums gently to his soft touch.

Slowly the notes fade away,
And the entangled body improvise,
The rain as their director,
As they begin to make music.

Proceeding slowly, the ballad continues.
As she accepts him into her haven.
Her voice echoes like a horn,
Crying gentle noise into the night.

Blood rushes rampantly through them,
And they move in perfect harmony.
Slowly in a crescendo,
His pulse throbs deep within her.

Their tempo increases,
Biting her lip in anticipation.
As the music plays louder in her,
It is not much longer...

Ever steady, flying to heavens forbidden,
The strings play faster and faster.
The winds play higher and higher,
No more can they stand it...

They crash together like a cymbal,
As the bass inside him blasts in fortissimo.
She can only but hold her note,
As the music finally blends...

Pure music erupts,
Harmonic voices go unheard,
The Pulsing bass floods her with ambrosia,
Filled with such inspiration, she counters.

A trill radiates from her,
Lower than higher, descending only to reascend.
Such sweet music to his ears,
As his lover plays her solo in their private concerto.

The timpani rolls,
As they roll off each other only to fall into each other's arms again.
They fall asleep still entwined,
And the symphony decrescendos into the still of silence.