Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Mr. Monday night

"Beware of the serpant" the innkeeper said,
As I walked into Eden in search of a bed
His name wasn't Adam, nor Peter nor Paul
A sight for the sockets, so handsomely tall

He beckoned to follow him under the tree
So I lit a smoke and decided to free
My thoughts, inhibitions, original guise
Believe me, you would have if you'd seen his eyes

His garden was green but not that much greener
And as for the fruit, well I have had sweeter
Not much of a talker but boy when he moved,
Like synchronized swimming, on point and in tune

We both reached the mountain, one rock at a time
Our bodies ignited, his first and then mine
A precedent set by a Saint made of skin
Hold onto your stones if you live without sin

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