In the quiet of night, under stars that watch and whisper,
A warmth blooms, gentle as the morning’s first light.
It unfolds, soft and inviting, like dawn’s tender kiss,
Her love, a hearth in the chill of life’s night.

In the haven of her arms, a sanctuary from the storm,
Where dreams soar on wings of freedom, unchained, reborn,
Her touch, a silent symphony, wet and melding, in quiet accord,
In her embrace, the truest peace, a treasure hoarded and adored.

Beyond this refuge, life’s tumult rages, fierce and unforgiving,
Yet fades to mere shadows, against her warmth, so life-giving.
In her hold, time’s relentless march is sweetly stilled,
And in its pause, love’s blossom, tenderly nurtured, is fulfilled.

Beneath the moon’s soft glow, a solitary beacon in the night,
Within her embrace, souls take flight.
This communion, her love, ethereal and profound,
A haven from life’s tempest, where true solace is found.

Let us cherish these moments, precious and sweet,
In the warmth of her love, where two hearts meet.
Here, in silent communion, no masks, no pretense,
Lies our solace, our peace, our heart’s deepest recompense.