“When I look back, the Garden is a dream to me. It was beautiful, surpassingly beautiful, enchantingly beautiful; and now it is lost, and I shall not see it any more. The Garden is lost, but I have found him, and am content.” – Mark Twain, Eve’s Diary: After the Fall
Dancing in the Days of Early Summer Nights;
6 a.m. bedtime orders;
Kisses are our choice of barter.
Sweating behind contorted knees,
Foreheads compressed together.
Spooning to looming,
Déjà vu entitlement,
Heaven is where we went.
You must be logged in to post a comment.