There is not much that can be said
Between two hearts that lie in three,
For now, on some quiet and warm bed,
The sky seems as quiet as quiet can be.

Each heart passion roams intertwined,
Every hope resurrects fresh and wild;
Tears, for the time, stay far declined,
And all of love rests supinely beguiled.

The need for more, for the time, is silent;
Orgasms are all but forgotten now;
Arms lie filled, anxiety lies spent,
The future seems like it was begotten now.

The story of the sky is just beginning.
The dawn too, for now, has been stilled.
Eyes are sated and are drowsily singing.
Everything empty, for now, has been filled.