Leaves, hidden bellbirds,
tufts of moss
like fairy pillows,
eyes of love
share that ferny glen,
silence broken
soft sighs falling stream;
when night time comes
I hear her voice calling
her love, the bellbird singing
where soft sunlight fingers
stroke secret places
as we fall together,
silken tresses spread,
moisture glistens, kissed
by the lips of morning;
pent emotions rush
like a swollen torrent
crashing over rocks
and tumbled limbs,
of passionate heartbeats
The secret valley surrenders
To his touch.


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