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A twisted Trail in Eden’s Garden (Free verse) by Dovina

Sin is crouching at your door— she heard it said to Cain. His mother, Eve, remembers well the day she sat there crouching, halfway through a tasty sin. Suckered, sold and saddened, by verdict, vouched and valid, she lingered just for one last treat, sweet sensation, lone indulgence before the exit, slam and lock, thorns and sweat outside the gate.

Dovina 25-Mar-07/7:53 PM
Start with a hard stress and end soft; you poetes are all alike.




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