My Eden Poem by Damien Martin O'Dowd

She was his apple of Eden,
On the leafy tree of lust,
On a wiry branch of passion,
Hung there by a wisp of trust.

On a grassy hill she grew there
Like an altar to the Gods
And from this grassy hill
she made enchanting calls

Get back the angels warned him
But he ignored their lore
And then the wisp was broken
And on her flesh he gorged.

Arret the Angles implored of him
But his eyes they were forlorn
The apple it was eaten
Now he craved her all the more.