Nature

The breeze caressed the slender waist

Of the olive leaves

More like a maestro

Handling the strings of an antique guitar

Rustles of the willowy leaves

Made the loudest moans

The modest method 

That choked the silence of the dark pitched erotic nights.

Clouds are the curtains

To conceal the Moon lantern,

Twinkling stars are the candles

On a romantic date

Flickering and blazing

Yet, Adding intensity to orgasms.

Dew drops on grass,

Drips of sweat, I guess.

Nights are not silenced

They are the loudest

Waiting for a fervid listener.