The aroma of the orange blossoms
Was so inviting
And though I knew I should not,
I dared to reach and grasp and stretch myself
To my furthest point
to draw in the intoxicatingly wonderful
Taste of that which was forbidden to me,
And which I should not,
Nor could I,
Possess.
The tree was in a place
I dare not trespass,
The bounty
Of its harvest
Not mine to claim.
But for that brief moment,
It seemed I could.
And with an outstretched hand
I drew the sweet fruit in towards me,
Plucking it from its far off place
And holding it, tenderly,
In my hands;
Succulent and juicy,
This fruit of mine,
Solidly delivered
Into my grasp.
I savored its juicy goodness,
Breathing in the aromatic sweetness,
Fleshy textures dancing on my tongue,
And hoped that this feeling,
this exhilarating memory
Of sensory excess
And pleasurable fulfillment
Would last...
