It's blunt simplicity is so enticing; it's endless promises' of delight addictive...It's harsh opossite creul in its reality. I speak of the nite, the picth black nite.

Its promises vary from sensual to erotic, silent to loud, soft lushious velvet to a flaming red hot fire.

All to be delivered by him...

the father of my children...

my other half...

my mate.

In this chamber I would await him or vice-versa. No light, only the dark could create this atmosphere. In this atmosphere anticipation reigns until the first touch, the first carress. The only carress more inticing than that of his hands on my body are those of his lips on my body.

With the darkning sky, promises' whispers threw the air. They still do, yet now I sit and await him,...

only to face the harsh day when he dosen't arrive...

when he dosen't embrace me.

Eventhough I know one day he will embrace me once more for now that is no consulation as with each nite the whispered promises of the darkness, become more and more like the creul taunts of the day.

-Poetry by T'Pel.