When the evening is nigh, mellifluous whispers of a spellbinding dialect, flow down the erroneous branch of their spines.  A white lotus opens beneath the purple haze of the moon within an aura of a grazioso breeze. 

His penetrating eyes touch with finesse of a feather as deep in her palpitating heart he plunges. Warm winds blow and the moonlight throbs; Lost within champagne passion and bubbles of effervescence; intoxicated by one another.

 His palatable kiss melts upon magenta lips; in an unspoken language and esoteric feelings.  Shadows whisper between branches of the willows as tears swell with ecstasy.  There is no escape from this nectarous potion from which they breathe, except in the bewilderment and curse
of the cold hearted dawn.
​
©SyberRose