VOYEUR:

Tonight, I watched a man making love,

To the love of his life, as soft as a dove,

He caressed her curves, with fingers of silk,

Touching her satin skin, as smooth as milk.

 

Slowly, under his touch, she began to sing,

Through his ardent love, he gave her wings,

As she trembled & groaned, she began to fly,

With a smile on his lips, the man closed his eyes.

 

Slowly, softly, in crescendo, she gently moaned,

The man knew then, her body, he solely owned,

Being made love to like that, could never be sin,

Watching rapt, I wished, I was that man´s violin.