I was temptation, the very fruit
your father had forbidden you.
Who, then, played the snake in Eden?
Single minded, simple minded,
I could not see that, also, was I,
hissing songs only I understood.
Once, swift angels of your gate
knew me as friend; they have flown
away with all my keys, no longer
bearing swords nor baring teeth.
What need when I exiled myself
so thoroughly from Paradise?
I shall remain a wanderer,
driven from the gates of dawn,
the rising sun of your farewell kiss.
This garden, grown as guarded as I,
is closed to me and to my heart’s
children for all their generations.
Stephen Brooke ©2006