Edin.

 EDIN.

To speak of Eve's beguiling fruits, but fail to see the garden

Rich, wild, and alive in truth 

beyond the rigid vines of society’s facade

They pluck and sample, what mercurial things

While trampling upon the earth which they were birthed.

To cry upon, yet curse the sweet nectar’s taste

Dizzied  under such warm embrace.

The gates are locked, the fruit removed

Yet flavors linger on the tongue

But still the seeds have been planted

From which the garden we have come

Now lie the field of wilted wings and other mercurial things.

I wrote this poem about the hypersexuality of females within the context of the garden of Edin.