Storm of Passion

The lightning strikes, it sees my naked form;
Contours of my body fleetingly visible.
Through the dark growl of thunder you hold my wet hair,
In this moment we are sinking into.
I feel your energy filling me inside and out,
You lie with me under the plush, angry clouds
And we dance, in tempo with the musical notes
Of an autumn storm, menacing strike after strike,
So until we collapse, content and saturated
And fall sleep under a voyeristic night