Oh, noble wanderer, burdened by day’s cruel demand,

Dost thou not crave a sanctuary, shaped by desire’s hand?

Come forth, where veils are drawn and whispers dare,

To realms where pleasure lingers, unbridled, rare.

 

In twilight’s hush, where secrets softly ignite,

Our hands become fire, a lover’s delight.

Each touch, a promise, both tender and bold,

A symphony of passions, for thee to behold.