How wonderful it is to make love, with a stranger,
As you know, there is no promise, nor danger.
You simply glide into those unknown arms,
And improvise every move without the fear of eternal charm.
There is no hurry to end the night, to make sense,
To understand the dark flow of psyche with literary reference.
The puff of passion will fuel the foreign heart,
Prolonging the dizzy slithering, only if you know the art.
Wonder you so, what is there in life?
That can be treasured forever, within the fist of Time?
You lie there, side by side, gazing at the stars,
Knowing that this ends here, without leaving any scars.
