You are a songbird,
at night shift,
on the branch of my tree.
I am ever ecstatic,
in documenting body music;
the time is ripe for our concert,
we are intoxicated, drunk with the vintage wine of lust.
"No combination could be more perfect"
I hear you whisper poetry in my ear, inebriated.
Let us satiate-
the prompt of our divine longing
before this night leaves us behind.
Yes, you are right,
I am Omar Khayyam thinly disguised.