Inside the Dancing Garden

Come with me
inside the dancing garden.
Come taste. Come see.
Come join me in this wild.

I know what they say,
“Don’t trust a woman in a garden.
She may offer you an apple,
as round as a breast,
and as ripe as possibilities.
You will never recover 
from your mouth on her satin skin,
or your hands tracing curves 
previously unknown.

The first, soft bite into her tender skin, 
flushed red with passion,
will be your ruination,
and her sweet juice
will linger in your mouth
long after you have had your fill.
Don’t trust a woman in a garden.
She may offer you fruit,
and you may take it.” 

But I say, think of everything you will learn
when you taste the fruit of this tree of knowledge, 
there’s so much to know
about fruit flesh, about Love,
about good. In the dancing garden
there is no evil.

I will feed you mangos
’til your cheeks blush it’s colors,
of sunset and oranges.
Come take my flesh,
slick and moist,
and hold it, hot
like summer in your hands.

Let me take you
back to nature, baby.
Come with me to this dance.
We will move in perfect time,
your body flush with mine,
in this dancing garden,
this Eden calling.

Come, we will dance,
and dance, and dance.