Whispering Love

My lover’s tunic is not a mere drapery on the velvet chair

Our sinful lust is inflamed then his haste from the room

If caught red-handed, why would he fight in sheer vain

If I am such an adulteress, blackened be my cherished name

I have laid eyes on dalliances, all coquetted kinds in Wiltshire

But no such disgrace and shame I see in my treacherous soul

And on my perfumed skin is his and only his irresistible taste

Than in other frantic lovers that troll the dark moonlit nights

I crave my lover to see me, his hungry eyes feasted on me

That his bewitching artful tongue cast many tender moments

Even Goddess Venus wouldn’t be a seductive temptress

As my lover who hastes, finally takes the secret passage

By far, by wonder, I feel his crazy love as shamefully passionate

My husband so dear, my lover, beyond smouldering desire