the garden of eden

the adam in you and the eve in me walked through this garden.
in a time before tomorrow, we entered an arbor,
overgrown with red and white roses, intertwined.
we wandered this maze of green,
sometimes drifting apart,
sometimes hand-in-hand.
(how is it that the sight of your hand reaching out for mine could so easily undo a flurry of my emotions?)
when we reached the center,
there was fruit, aching with crimson juice, known to be forbidden.
i could have offered it to you,
but instead reached for the single piece of sacred heart-shaped chocolate.
it was darkest and bittersweet with a warm filling, rendolent of vanilla and love,
sitting on a gold plate.
as you bit into it, shiny and crackling, our futures, whatever they may be, entwined,
as did the red and white roses.
i know with all certain knowledge there will be thorns.
but the scent of heaven that rises from their soft petals make me forget the pain
and place my future with you.

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All writing contained in this website 1998-2005 by Betty A. Parker