Wind blows brisk upon the back of the evening sky,
Yet, we don't mind the cold within each other's arms.
Tomorrow we'll wake and find Earth's new touch shy,
Influenced by our sly seduction and subtle charms.
We'll woo her and find she distorts myriad colors,
Whisper sweetly in her and find that she blushes.
Ply her with wine and discover her freshest lovers,
Caress her softly and watch as her blood rushes.
A lip's touch excites the red clay amidst her ground,
Finger tip trails explode along her rocky spine.
Press your face close and hear her grating sound
So long as you are reacting to her proper sign.
But tomorrow you'll wake to her shy new style,
A human's unique gift, the ability to not remember.
Alas, Earth cannot and will be shamed for awhile
Whilst looking back on that lust-filled December.