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The tryst
The Tryst
Every midnight
When the sentry moon is out
And all eyes are shut
The goddess of the heavens
descends
From her lofty tower
Wearing gossamer silk nightgown
She alights
tiptoeing
So that no one shall sight
Her clandestine rendezvous
With her lover-
the ground
Who was gazing up
Eagerly waiting a while ago
Craving for ecstacy.
The dainty goddess slowly lies
On top of the firm ground
Her lips began to trail
his heaving chest
His rugged fingers grope
her delicate skin
Their bodies merge,
Moving to a slow rhythm
No sound
is heard
But the crisp rustle of branches
Stirred by the two interlocked bodies
After the ritual
The goddess fleetly climbs skyward
Returns to her castle
So that her husband sun
Would not discover her lechery.
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