The grass serves as silk, feathered pillows beneath us,
Wearing nothing but out skin under the shaded trees,
Whispering us sweet lullabys as the gentlest breeze blows through...

Rays of sun dance across our bodies, 
Our fingers intertwine, fitting like a perfect puzzle,
Giving us a shock rippling through us from the touch...

The only sounds heard are our even, slow breathing and our beating hearts,
Shooting sweet blood through our veins...
Our hands never wander and our eyes never stray...

Hands tied in his hair, lips interlocked, our bodies melt into one in our
Garden of Eden...