Name:  
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Name:  
Email: 

His eyes beheld my own
that night in June
While ambling 'neath a
starry midnight sky

And, there below an oval,
platinum moon
We viewed a crimson comet
passing by

The warm night air
bore clothing for our skin
Yet, in our nakedness
we failed to see

How some could view 
such art form as a sin
The finely sculpted lines
of ecstasy

And though some speak of art,
I fear them blind
When they choose not to see
and thus, deny

While gazing on us unclothed
they may find
No beauty more to
e'er enchant the eye

Than you, my love, thy heart
as pure as gold
And me, whose love is
mirrored in your soul